


come alive and bring the thunder

by merlypops



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fae, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Asexual Calum, Betrayal, Blood and Gore, Blow Jobs, Childhood Friends, Children, Depression, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, Fae & Fairies, Fae Magic, Falling In Love, Family, Family Issues, First Kiss, First Love, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Forced Marriage, Friendship, Happy Ending, Healing, Heartbreak, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Kissing, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Minor Character Death, Mpreg, Rimming, Romance, Royalty, Same-Sex Marriage, Sexual Content, Suicidal Thoughts, Supernatural Elements, Temporary Character Death, True Love, Violence, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-11
Updated: 2015-09-19
Packaged: 2018-04-08 16:59:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 36,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4313043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merlypops/pseuds/merlypops
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'“I’m King Michael, Ruler of the Kingdom of Sydney,” the stranger said. His face was cast in shadows and, try as he might, Luke couldn’t see what he looked like properly. All he could make out in the darkness was a shock of black hair and a cloak, like the King had arrived under cover. “I’ve heard so much about you, Prince Luke.”<br/>“None of it’s true."<br/>“So you <i>aren’t</i> gifted in healing nature and casting powerful enchantments?” Michael asked and his voice became gentler when Luke’s face softened fractionally. “You <i>aren’t</i> a skilled musician and the most powerful of your kind?”<br/>“Not anymore,” Luke said bitterly.'</p><p>
  <b>Prince Luke of the Faeries is forced to marry King Michael after a War between kingdoms threatens to tear their lives apart... and maybe Luke and Michael fall in love too. Maybe.</b>
</p><p>Based on "Paint Me Black" by Ben Hazlewood feat. Mali Koa Hood.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Into The Darkness

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys!  
> I'm incredibly excited about this fic and I really hope you'll all enjoy it!  
> It feels different to anything I've written before so I hope you'll all like it!  
> Thank you for reading! :)

**_Changing, rearranging._ **

 

Luke's skin was whiter than the stars and colder than the night sky they rested in. His golden hair was stardust combed across black velvet. His lips were rose petals on his beautiful face.

Luke was one of the Fae and a Prince of the Realm of Faerie besides. He was relatively young, having just passed his seventieth summer, and his feet still danced across the bracken of the forest floor with an almost-childlike joy in his heart and a happiness that his father - King Andrew - was never privy to.

Back in the Citadel, Luke had to be regal, fair and mature beyond his years but out here - spinning through the forests he had grown up in - Luke could forget his heritage and cast aside the crushing weight of his father's expectations.

Out here, Luke was free to daydream about whatever he wished, be it his secret lover Ashton - Captain of the King's Guards - or Luke's late mother, a sea nymph who had passed her beauty to her youngest son... his mother, whom Luke missed more and more every day.

Out here, the sun shone warmly and the dewdrops on the foliage glittered like diamonds.

Out here, Luke was _free_.

 

**_Under your call, we all fall._ **

 

Tensions between the Kingdoms - not just between the Humans but between the Faeries too - were strained these days and the worry King Andrew felt at this showed in the frown lines on his otherwise unblemished face.

"Your Majesty," Luke said wryly when the Guard securing the door opened it to grant the Prince passage. The Citadel was cold at this time of year and Luke shivered as he entered his father’s study, wishing he had brought a cloak with him to ward off the chill. "You wished to see me?"

Luke had been told to call his father by his official title for as long as he could remember but, even after seventy years, it still refused to roll naturally off his tongue.

"My son," King Andrew said, looking up at Luke with something hidden in his eyes. "I have a... proposition for you."

Luke's expression was as flat as a still lake when he took in his father's words.

"A proposition that I am in no position to respond negatively to, I assume?" Luke's words were surprisingly sharp and Andrew's blue eyes were almost as piercing as his son's.

"You would be ill-advised to," the King said and, when the blond Faerie offered no comment, Andrew continued. "You know tensions between the Kingdoms in Paelar are strained," the King began blandly, discussing their World's wars in a weary tone, like he was exhausted by it. "And our Realm is no exception. You know we are in talks with King Michael, Ruler of the Kingdom of Sydney after his land was threatened by King Calum of Victoria?"

Luke nodded wordlessly and Andrew's jaw tightened, like what he was about to say would be hard to put into words.

“Our Realm needs Sydney as an ally,” the King said quietly, his expression almost _apologetic_  as he opened his hands in a placating gesture. “I need you to marry King Michael.”

Luke’s stomach lurched unpleasantly and he gripped the edge of his father’s desk hard to stay standing. Luke’s cheeks stained red and the flush spread down his throat, exposed as it was in the forest-green tunic he was wearing. Luke’s knuckles whitened when he tightened his grip on the aged wood.

“What do you mean?” he asked weakly. “I can’t marry him. He’s a Human.” Luke’s tone twisted around the word, like it was something unpleasant. “And I don’t love him. I could _never_ love him.” Luke exhaled shakily. “I won’t marry Michael.”

Andrew looked as though he had been expecting his son’s response although the slight tightening of the pale skin around his eyes showed that it upset him.

“I’m afraid you are of the misguided belief that you actually have a choice in this matter.”

Luke’s heart was a crystal, shattering in his chest beneath his father’s boot.

“Father, please,” Luke said beseechingly. “I can’t marry someone I don’t love. I can’t marry a _Human_.” When Andrew still looked unconvinced, Luke grew desperate. “Father, I - Your Majesty, you raised me to believe that I was better than them and you succeeded. I do believe that. I _am_ better… so please don’t tether me to one such as that – to a Human king who will be decayed and dead before I reach full growth.” Luke’s voice was trembling now and he hated that it made him feel vulnerable and weak.

“I wish to be free,” Luke said helplessly, finishing the sentence silently in his head: ‘ _With **Ashton**_.’ His heart was plummeting in his chest now though because he knew his words were pointless.

“You will outlive the Human by more than a millennia, son of mine,” Andrew said quietly, his voice soft and lilting like pebbles in a brook. Luke’s anger was icy in his chest as his fate was set in stone. “But for now you must accept this. You must do your duty to this Kingdom so that we might survive the upcoming War, just as your brothers are doing theirs,” the King said solemnly, referring to Ben and Jack who were currently training their armies in the valleys to the East. Luke rarely saw them and he found that he missed them very little but, even as the Prince stood there frozen, his father’s words filtered through.

Luke’s lungs fluttered like leaves in a windstorm and he felt his control slipping as his magic burnt inside him, scorching and roiling as it thrummed jaggedly through his veins like adrenaline-spiked blood.

“You _will_ marry King Michael,” Andrew said and his voice was stony, leaving no room for compromise.

Luke’s rage dragged him blindly from the Citadel.

 

**_Just know that I won't follow you further._ **

**_I'm taking over, I'm now the leader._ **

 

Luke’s anger drove him so deep into the forest that he reached the very edge of the Realm, skirting on the border between his father’s land and Victoria, King Calum’s territory.

It was a dangerous area, known for bandits and griffins and even the occasional dragon sighting but, right now, Luke couldn't find it in himself to care.

His feet were bare and bleeding from the thorns he had fought through, and that alone hinted at just how long the Prince had been running for. Fae skin was known for being tougher than most and the fact that he had torn it was worrying. It hinted that maybe his magic was burning too hot, fighting to escape the fragile confines of the body it had been trapped in.

Luke’s anger made him weak and, when he heard footsteps crunching over fallen leaves behind him, he bristled visibly, whirling around with his hand outstretched as a streak of fiery energy seared from his palm, scorching the trunk of an ancient oak tree that had been growing there for centuries.

The Captain of the King's Guards straightened warily, watching Luke with sadness and concern etched into his tanned face. Luke bit back a sob, turning away from Ashton as he went to the tree’s aid.

Luke’s palm was soft against the bark as he sang softly and the tree gave a great groaning creak as it grew new wood to cover the wound Luke had made. The blond Faerie brushed his lips across the trunk briefly, murmuring an apology, and he knew the tree nymph inside was appeased when he looked up in time to see new acorns forming.

“Luke,” Ashton said quietly, his voice so lilting that the beauty of it made Luke’s heart ache in his chest. “Your father needs you to come home. He has everyone searching for you. It’s dangerous for you to be out here alone.”

“Oh, please,” Luke said dismissively but his eyes were burning with tears now and he couldn't stand it. “The most powerful Fae in this Realm is me. Everyone knows it.” Luke slumped suddenly, like all of the fight had left him. “Ash, please help me. Don’t make me go back. I love –”

“Luke,” Ashton said sharply, his hazel eyes darting towards the surrounding trees and away again. Luke’s own eyes narrowed and he reached out tentatively with tendrils of his magic, only to flinch away when he sensed more Guards hiding in the trees.

Ashton stepped closer, taking both of Luke’s hands in his own and holding them tightly. Luke’s eyes swam with tears but the magic in his veins calmed at Ashton’s touch, stretching contentedly like a cat in a patch of sunlight. The tears collecting in Luke’s eyes rolled down his cool cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” Ashton whispered and his lips brushed Luke’s, even as the Captain of the Guards suddenly tightened his grip, pulling Luke closer. There was an unexpected click of metal and Luke’s knees weakened as he looked down slowly, taking in the iron chains Ashton had bound around his wrists that choked his magic.

“You tricked me,” Luke whispered and his tears were blinding him but the betrayal was too much. “You… I… I can’t believe you –”

”It was for the good of the Realm,” the Captain said softly, his honey-coloured curls swaying gently in the breeze. Luke closed his eyes tightly, fighting for his magic and panicking badly when he couldn’t quite reach it.

The pity on Ashton’s face hurt to look at and Luke started to struggle, fighting against the elder as he searched vainly for his magic. It was weakened but not gone like it would have been if the Prince had been forced to wear one of the legendary dragon-forged iron rings the King had in his possession.

Then no amount of struggling in all of _Paelar_ would help if the Keeper in control refused to remove it.

“I will break free of these and I will set this forest ablaze,” Luke snarled but they both knew it was an empty threat. The pain on Luke’s face after he had accidentally harmed the tree was enough proof.

“No, you won’t,” Ashton said softly as the Guards started to emerge from the trees.

Luke began to struggle anew, panicking now because his father had betrayed him and Ashton had betrayed him and now Luke was being forced to marry a Human and – and all he could do was resist until he had no fight left in him.

The Guards were powerful but, even bound, Luke would have been able to beat them alone in a fight. They weren’t alone though and the Prince was up against ten of them, and it wasn’t a fair fight.

Andrew hadn’t planned for it to be. Nor had Ashton.

The last thing Luke saw as their magic overcame him was the exhaustion in Ashton’s beautiful eyes. It reminded the Prince of his father.

“You’re a coward!” Luke screamed but he didn’t know who he meant anymore.

When Ashton’s fingers touched his forehead gently, a wave of lethargy crashed down over Luke and he went limp on the forest floor.

The darkness overcame him.

 

**_Stuck in my eye line is my one goal._ **

**_To make me happy, it's time that you go._ **

 

Luke woke up in a shadowy room but it wasn’t the gentle re-emergence to consciousness that he was used to. It felt forced somehow and his head was still clouded with sleep. He felt almost as though he had been enchanted to wake up and it was a distinctly unpleasant sensation.

Rapidly the events leading up to Luke’s capture flooded back and he felt cold, despite the fireball twisting and turning in the grate in the corner of the room (and this alerted him to the fact that he was still in the Citadel – nowhere else lit and warmed rooms with such magic). There was no smoke since the Fae refused to cut down trees but the firelight shone brightly.

The heat did nothing to warm Luke’s skin.

The Prince tried to sit up in an effort to look at the rest of the unfamiliar room but he found that he was unable to move.

Panic overwhelmed Luke and, as it burnt away the last of the lethargy clouding his brain, he began to notice the tell-tale signs of residual energy left over from spellcasting in the air of the dark room, buzzing slightly louder than the low crackle of the fireball.

Luke was trapped by a paralysing spell and, since his wrists were still bound by the iron chains, the Prince found it impossible to break free. Even his eyes were fixed straight up above him but he thought the panic must have been clear in them because, at that moment, a familiar voice spoke up.

“My son, you must calm yourself.”

Andrew sounded weary and Luke wanted to curl his hands into fists and fight like a dirty _Human_ , wanted to punch and kick and scream until he was freed.

He said nothing. His tongue was lead in his mouth and his heart pounded unevenly with fear-fuelled rage.

Luke couldn’t understand why he was being kept like this. There was no dignity and it felt as though all of the maturity he had fought so hard to portray outwardly in the Citadel had been ripped away from him, cast into the dirt like it meant nothing.

He was a Prince of the Realm and he was chained up like a dog.

Luke’s questions burnt brightly like icy fire in his eyes and Andrew sighed as he appeared in his youngest son’s field of vision.

“You threatened to set the forest ablaze,” Andrew said sadly and Luke shut his eyes tightly against a sudden rush of tears, hating that those words were true. “And you harmed one of our oldest oak trees.”

The energy in the room crackled again and Luke found that he could speak.

“I healed her,” he breathed and his voice was hoarse from crying. “I heard someone and I tried to defend myself and then I fixed the damage.”

“You’ve proved too volatile, Luke,” Andrew said and the Prince’s name sounded strange on his tongue because he spoke it so little. “You allow your anger to control you and, while that is something you struggle with, you leave me no choice.”

“What do you mean?” Luke whispered but he heard movement somewhere else in the room suddenly, wanted to flinch away but was of course unable to. “Who else is here?” the Prince asked and his fear made his voice sharp.

Andrew’s reply was not forthcoming and Luke’s dread thickened when a new voice spoke, clouding his thoughts and choking him with panic as a Human stepped closer to the bed too.

“I’m King Michael, Ruler of the Kingdom of Sydney,” the stranger said. His face was cast in shadows and, try as he might, Luke couldn’t see what he looked like properly. All he could make out in the darkness was a shock of black hair and a cloak, like the King had arrived under cover. “I’ve heard so much about you, Prince Luke.”

The Faerie’s lip curled and he searched for his magic anew, wishing for nothing more than to escape from his prison, never to return.

“None of it’s true,” Luke spat, his eyes flashing dangerously, and both Kings chuckled, like Luke was something to be ridiculed.

“So you _aren’t_ gifted in healing nature and casting powerful enchantments?” Michael asked and his voice became gentler when Luke’s face softened fractionally. “You _aren’t_ a skilled musician and the most powerful of your kind?”

Luke felt something dark unfurling in his heart as the iron chains clung to his wrists.

“Not anymore,” he said bitterly. “Not like _this_.” His imploring gaze returned to his father but Andrew’s back was to him and, by the low murmur of his voice, Luke imagined the King was speaking to one of the Guards. He seemed to be requesting something.

“My son,” Andrew said and he was turning with his hand outstretched now and, when Luke identified what was in it, cold fear choked him as his stomach churned with nausea. “I said that you had left me with no choice and I meant it. This is not an easy decision to make.”

The ring resting on Andrew’s palm was made of iron, blackened with age and twisted, like the metal had almost melted once after exposure to extreme heat… almost like _dragon fir_ e.

“What _is_ that?” King Michael asked quietly, his voice wary almost, and Andrew’s expression was a curious mixture of melancholic determination.

“It’s a ring,” the King of the Faeries said softly. The revulsion rose like bile in Luke’s throat as his father walked closer. “It was forged in the Great Mountains over two millennia ago, made with the breath of dragons and iron from exploding supernovas, King Michael. These rings are legendary among our kind.”

“ _Terrible_ ,” Luke gasped out and his voice was hoarse with fear and, even if his father _hadn’t_ placed an enchantment on him, he would have been too terrified to move. “They’re _terrible_. They’re used for torture and unbearable agony, for only the _darkest_ of our kind.” The panic was saturating Luke’s voice now and the Prince’s tear-filled eyes were pleading as he lay paralysed on the bed. “Father, _p-please_.”

Luke’s voice cracked with the strain and Michael looked unsure now, gripping the back of a chair tightly as he looked from father to son with apprehension clear on his face.

“Your Majesty,” Michael said slowly and he sounded shaken by the fear evident on his husband-to-be’s face. “What does this ring do?”

Luke shut his eyes again, forced them shut so hard that it hurt but it didn’t block out the awful words Luke could hear.

“The rings bind magic,” Andrew said softly, sounding as though he was forcing himself to be detached. “Far more powerful than the chains he wears now. Those only reduce a Fae’s magic. The ring binds magic so tightly that none but the Keeper granted control can restore the ring-wearer’s powers by removing it.”

“And I am to be the Keeper in control?” Michael asked heavily and Luke _knew_ he wasn’t imagining the unwillingness and the guilt in the Human King’s voice, and that cut worse than any icy wind Luke had ever ventured out in because Faes were meant to be _better_ and Andrew was making decisions like this.

“Yes,” the Faerie King said and his voice was solemn as he stepped closer with the ring held tightly in his grasp. “You will be Luke’s Keeper and – if you value your Kingdom and our alliance – you will _never_ remove this ring. He has proved today that he is far too dangerous unbound to be used as a pawn. He is uncontrollable.”

Luke’s tears were bitter but a part of him was relieved. His father had never sugared his words and clearly today was no exception.

“Your Majesty –” Michael began but he fell silent at the dangerous flashing of Andrew’s eyes.

“You are lucky to marry my son, Human King. Do not seek to question me. This alliance is far more important to you than it is to my Realm.”

Michael’s jaw snapped shut but he squared it, watching Andrew with dark burning eyes as the Faerie King stepped closer, picking up Luke’s limp hand in his own as he took the ring between his thumb and forefinger.

“Please – _no_ –” Luke gasped weakly but the metal was sliding into place and the horrifying feeling of his magic being locked away suffocated everything else.

The room seemed darker and the air more difficult to breathe and, when Luke fought in vain to use his magic to free himself, the ring burned red-hot on his finger, leaving an agonising welt behind.

Luke was screaming – dimly, he could hear it echoing around the stone chamber – but the terror and the disgust and the sickness still churning in his stomach were giving way to pure exhaustion, and finally the fight drained out of him.

The last thing Luke saw before everything went black was Michael’s anxious, shadowy face fading into the darkness.

 

**_I know I'm starving but I'll fill my hunger._ **

 

The further from the Realm he travelled, the more Luke's hopelessness ate away at him.

The skies were cloudy and grey as rain streamed down like shards of diamond. Luke was bundled up in a dark grey cloak and the dragon-forged ring around his index finger seemed to weigh more than the Great Mountains themselves.

The carriage Luke was travelling to King Michael's Palace in was richly made but it didn't smell like the forest. All Luke could smell was petrichor and Human and the stink of iron permeating almost everything else.

The King of Sydney had already travelled back to his Kingdom - the pain of losing his magic had left Luke unconscious for days - and the Faerie's heart was lonely as the carriage wound through the valleys.

There was a driver seated upfront and a Guard sitting across from Luke with his solemn grey gaze fixed straight ahead. The Prince shifted weakly in his seat and the man's eyes flickered to his face.

"Kill me," Luke said miserably. " _Please_."

The Guard didn't respond but his brow creased fractionally and Luke let his head loll back to fall against the seat rest. He didn't even feel like a lowly Human with the ring binding his magic so completely. He felt like cattle and the blond Faerie knew he would never forgive his father for this.

The Prince stayed in that frame of mind for the rest of the journey but his anger reared its head when the horse hooves clattered over the cobblestones of an unfamiliar courtyard. There were high stone walls with battlements forming parapets bustling with Humans dressed in armour as they scurried about their daily business.

Luke could crush them like insects if this stupid ring would only be removed.

The Prince’s head jerked up in surprise when the door to the carriage was finally opened and a Guard stepped back to let Luke climb out.

He briefly entertained thoughts of running away but he knew there was no point. Despite how it _felt_ , he wasn’t actually a prisoner here. He needed to marry Michael of course – his father had seen to that – but Luke would presumably be free to wander the Palace and perhaps the rest of the Kingdom eventually.

Luke hoped he could see the ocean from wherever he would be living.

It reminded him of his mother.

 

**_I'll come alive and bring the thunder._ **

 

Luke met Michael properly later that afternoon.

The Prince had been left in a small but richly furnished room somewhere in the Palace. There was a bookshelf and a tapestry hanging over the stone wall but Luke ignored them both in favour of sitting on the window seat and glaring at the wall in front of him instead.

It was warm in the room on account of the fire crackling merrily in the grate but the creaking of the burning wood sounded like cries of pain to Luke and his heart hurt even worse in his chest.

There was a table pressed up against the far wall with a pitcher of water on it and Luke rose, crossing the room to retrieve it before he tipped it over the flames, dousing them completely as small tendrils of grey smoke curled up into the air like snakes.

The door creaked open slowly and Luke turned sharply, finding himself face to face with the King.

Luke flinched away before he could stop himself when he saw Michael’s face properly for the first time.

Beneath his crown and surprisingly messy black hair, the side of the Human’s pale face was burnt badly. The skin around his eye was sore-looking and reddened although the burn looked old. Luke wondered when Michael had been hurt but he found he didn’t care enough to ask.

“You didn’t want the fire lit?” Michael asked softly and the blond Faerie looked up at him curiously, taking in the _kindness_ in the King’s gentle emerald eyes.

“Cutting trees down is cruel,” Luke said in a quiet, cold little voice. His small hands curled into fists and the dragon-forged iron bit into his skin. Luke’s eyes swam with bitter tears. “Just like slaughtering animals and each other like _barbarians_ is.”

“Luke,” Michael said quietly and Luke wanted to be angry that the King hadn’t used his title but the Prince had hardly been courteous either. “I want this to be as painless for you as it can be.”

Luke resisted the urge to laugh because it would no doubt have been hysterical. The ring on his finger warmed as his magic coiled through the iron and Michael’s burnt face was so _open_ and _kind_. Luke wanted to claw it.

He settled for fixing the King with the most scathing look he could muster up.

“I hate _everything_ about this,” the Prince hissed so that his voice wouldn’t have a chance to crack. “When this ring is removed, I will come alive again, Human. I will make everyone regret enslaving me like this.”

Luke felt icy cold as he straightened up, stepping closer to the Human with a fierce look on his beautiful face. “But I’m here because it’s my duty and I have no choice. Just don’t patronise me by calling this chaos _painless_.” The Prince’s shoulders slumped at the pity he could see on Michael’s face. Briefly, he thought of the soft hazel of Ashton’s eyes. “Nothing has ever hurt _worse_ , I can assure you.”

“I’m sorry,” Michael said quietly and his expression was sincere as he watched Luke sadly.

For the first time, it occurred to the blond Faerie that maybe Michael didn’t want this either.

“I blame my _father_ ,” Luke said haltingly and the words should have tasted like betrayal but he had been hurt by the King of the Faeries enough. It made Luke’s heart ache. “Not you, Human.”

Nothing changed though.

Luke was still married early the next morning to a Human he’d only properly known for a day.

It was nothing like Luke had imagined; no blood wiped across brows or crushed lavender flowers scattered into the wind, and Luke knew it would have been different had Ashton been there in Michael’s stead - _magnificent_ even…

Then the Prince remembered the soft look in the Captain’s eyes as he betrayed his lover and, suddenly, Luke wasn’t so sure.

 

**_Paint me black, cover me up again._ **

**_I won't hide from you._ **

 

There was a banquet after the wedding that night and the tension in the air was thick as hundreds of sets of eyes watched Luke curiously over the edge of their goblets.

The Prince at least appreciated that Michael had made sure there was no meat placed at their end of the table although Luke spotted the King watching other people eating the pork longingly.

Luke took a tiny amount of satisfaction in that but mostly he just felt miserable.

He wanted to be back in the forest, wheeling through the trees with Ashton’s warm hand wrapped around his as the rain soaked them and the older Fae’s lips moved against Luke's.

The Prince was dragged from his thoughts when the screeching of a bench sounded and King Michael rose, addressing the guests and thanking them for coming.

Luke gripped the edge of the bench hard, inhaling shakily as the guests began to file out of the room. He could still feel their heavy gazes fixed on his pale face though and it was making the hairs on the back of his neck rise.

“Luke?” Michael’s voice was soft and the Prince eyed the King’s extended hand with fear bordering on revulsion before he rose without touching him. “ _Luke_ ,” the King murmured and his voice was slightly pleading as the Guards ushered the last guests out of the room. “If you’d just listen -”

“ _Look_ ,” Luke interrupted sharply and he was pleasantly surprised when his voice didn’t shake. He brushed his gown-like tunic free of crumbs, rubbing his thumb comfortingly over the forest-green material like the comfort blanket he had carried around as a child. “I’m trying to play my part, Michael. I don’t want this and neither do you but… but we’re _husbands_ now and…”

The pair were walking down a torchlit passageway now and Luke was carefully keeping the pain off his face as the burning wood crackled in the brackets.

There was a Guard following them at a discreet distance but they weren’t close enough to overhear them.

“People will expect us to consummate this… this _marriage_ and…” Luke’s voice was trembling now but he fell silent, biting down on his bottom lip hard as they reached the King’s chambers. The Guard gave them a nod as he stood to attention outside the door and Michael’s gaze became soft.

“At ease,” he said softly and the man relaxed gratefully, standing aside as the King and the Prince entered the darkened chambers.

It was utterly silent once the doors were closed and the room was cold because Michael had kindly asked the servants to leave the fireplace in his room unlit. Luke shivered, wrapping his arms around himself tightly before he seemed to steel himself, taking a deep shuddering breath.

“How do you want to do this?” the Prince asked softly and he might have passed his seventieth summer and spent almost triple the amount of time on Paelar as the King had but it meant nothing in that moment. Luke felt young and inexperienced and _lost_.

He was afraid.

“What do you mean?” Michael asked uncertainly, even as he unbuckled the fastening on his cloak and left it draped over a chair nearby.

“We - consummation - surely - you mean you’re not -?” Luke was trembling so badly that he could hardly get the words out and Michael’s face crumpled when he understood what the Prince was asking.

“You thought I was going to force you?” Michael’s voice was weak and thick with something that _might_ have been tears. “Luke, I would _never_ do that. I told you I wanted this to be as painless as possible and I meant it. And as for what people think? I was just planning on lying to be perfectly honest…”

Michael’s lips twitched faintly as Luke’s piercing blue eyes fixed on his burnt face, scrutinising him as they tried to understand the reasons behind his actions.

Luke flinched when Michael reached out hesitantly to brush his knuckles against the Prince’s broad shoulder.

“I _promise_ you’re safe with me,” Michael whispered.

Luke might have believed him if he hadn’t heard Ashton utter those same words too.

“I just want to go to _sleep_ ,” Luke said hopelessly, thinking of his room back in the Citadel with its soft quilt, dried lavender and fallen leaves woven together to block out the sunlight. This cold, dark chamber couldn’t have been _further_ from that memory.

For the first time that day, Luke wondered what his mother would think.

“You’re exhausted,” Michael said softly and the blond Faerie frowned weakly when he felt the tears rolling down his cheeks. He shied away, snatching the handkerchief that the King was offering and mopping his tears as best he could. “You need to sleep.”

“Well so do you!” Luke snapped pointlessly as his defensiveness bristled inside of him.

His left hand felt heavy with the dragon-forged ring and his wedding band. A part of Luke hoped that he wouldn’t wake up the next morning.

“Just come to bed,” the King said wearily and Luke fought back a sob as he followed the command without question for once, not even bothering to remove his tunic before he wriggled under the uncomfortable blankets on the bed, heavy and scratchy against his pale skin.

The moon was faint through the clouds - little more than a silvery blur - and the rain was still falling heavily onto the cobblestones. Luke could hear the dull sound of footsteps as a group of Guards patrolled past. The wind was howling.

Beside him, Michael lay still.

He was an easy person to share a bed with. He didn’t snore and he kept to his side of the bed, and Luke wished everything about this situation wasn’t so frightening because Michael was warm when Luke was cold, and the hours before the dawn seemed to stretch on forever.

Michael seemed to fall asleep quickly that night.

Luke cried for hours.

 

**_Paint me black, cover me up again._ **

 

As the days bled away, Luke slipped into a depression.

Despite what Andrew and Ashton had done to him, he missed them so much it _hurt_. He missed his brothers and the Realm and learning to play new instruments and his soft singing as he healed the forest.

He missed his magic and the fireballs that didn't cruelly burn wood.

Luke missed his mother most of all.

The Prince's heart felt as though it was barely beating sometimes and he knew King Michael could see it, reflected in Luke's empty blue eyes as he rose in the morning and fell into bed at night.

Michael invited Luke to accompany him to the Court where talks would be continuing regarding the war raging in Paelar and Luke accepted, desperate for anything that might distract him from the emptiness festering in his heart.

Luke hadn't seen much of the devastation since he'd been kept safe inside Sydney's walls but it soon became evident that things were worse than he'd first imagined.

Michael's Kingdom had been at war with King Calum's Victoria for the past two summers and, although Michael's side was winning, they were suffering heavy losses and were considering new options.

Luke slumped back in the uncomfortable wooden chair and let the words wash over him as he gazed at the paintings on the ceiling distractedly.

Luke didn't even realise everyone had _gone_ until Michael touched his shoulder gently. The Prince cringed away from the touch and the King's eyes burnt with an emotion that Luke couldn't decipher.

"Would you like to take a walk outside with me?" Michael asked the Faerie quietly. "The air's cool and fresh today, and I need to greet my soldiers... and maybe it will make you feel a little better?"

Luke wanted to disagree with Michael for the sake of it but he thought that if he cut off his nose despite his face much more, he'd probably end up missing half of his skull before too long.

Michael's lips twitched like he knew what his husband was thinking.

"You coming?" the young man asked and Luke sighed, rising to follow him outside.

Michael had been right about the walk making Luke feel better, although the Prince was loathe to admit it.

Sydney was overcast although the rain had finally stopped falling. Everything smelt clean and fresh and, if Luke closed his eyes, it wasn't _impossible_ to imagine that he was back home in the forest or the Citadel after a rainstorm.

The soldiers all brightened considerably when they saw their King and Luke wanted to be impressed that Michael could inspire such wonder in the Humans who served him but... but Michael raised his hand to greet them and the new wedding band on his finger reflected the watery sunlight that was filtering through the clouds and it _blinded_ Luke to everything else.

"They've been training so hard," Michael told Luke proudly as the pair of them headed back towards the castle. Their Guards were walking at a discreet distance again, far enough away that they couldn't eavesdrop, but the Prince found that he didn't care very much anyway.

"They can all die as far as I'm concerned. So long as I get this blasted ring off, I really don't care." Luke's words were dripping with venom but he found it hard to ignore the Human soldiers' looks of wonder as they'd listened to Michael's words of encouragement with shining eyes.

In the same breath, Luke begged: "Michael, _please_. Take the ring off. Please. _Please_."

The King looked sad and disappointed then as he shook his head unwillingly.

"Luke," Michael said miserably and his black hair whipped about him as the breeze picked up. "I _can't_. You _know_ I can't."

Luke's eyes were swimming with tears now and he was shaking so much that the shimmering green material of his tunic rippled about him like waves. His golden hair was limp against his forehead. His pale pink lips were bitten raw.

" _Please_ , Michael," Luke whispered pathetically and the King stopped walking then, waving the Guards away as he ushered Luke over to a small stone bench nearby. Two maple trees grew over it, sheltering the seat with their branches, and that was Michael's destination.

He pushed Luke gently down onto the bench and sat beside him, careful to keep a small gap between them which Luke might have appreciated if his heart hadn't felt like it was tearing itself apart in his chest. There were no nymphs living in these trees but the rustle of the wind through the leaves calmed Luke a little all the same.

"I can't remove the ring, Luke," Michael said and Luke's sobs choked him.

"You _can_! You're my _Keeper_!" the Prince wept.

Michael seemed to be attempting to swallow past the lump in his throat.

"Well, I _won't_ remove it then," he amended softly, his voice thick with regret. "Not _now_ at least."

Michael's emerald green eyes were beautiful in his burnt face and Luke had never wanted to hate someone more than he did in that moment.

"Luke, I... I think your father's treatment of you was _barbaric_ but... but he warned me strongly not to remove this ring because your fury would be terrible to behold and... and I can see now that he was right."

Luke's shoulders slumped as the fight left him and the light inside him threatened to sputter out completely.

"I'm so sorry," Michael whispered and Luke's head fell to rest against Michael's shoulder. The King stiffened for a moment before his arm snaked gently around Luke's waist.

"I _really_ hate you," Luke choked out but his little hand knotted in the front of Michael's tunic and the King - his _husband_ \- held him closer.

"I know you do," Michael said soothingly, giving Luke a watery smile. "But if it's any consolation, I don't hate you at all."

A bird wheeled overhead and, across the courtyard, a Captain taught his men a new sword manoeuvre. Michael gave the Prince's shoulder a comforting squeeze, shushing him gently as another sob tore out of the Faerie.

For the first time, Luke thought he realised why the word humanity had 'Human' in it.


	2. Forgive And Forget

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had so much fun writing this honestly.  
> I love this fic so so so much.  
> I hope you'll like it! <3

**_I won't hide from you._ **

 

It was two months before Luke saw his father again.

Not much had changed during that time; Luke was still angry and defensive, refusing to even let his new husband _touch_ him until he collapsed sobbing into the King's arms when the ring was still firmly on Luke's finger at the end of the day.

It was exhausting and Luke could see how the stress was taking its toll on him. There were almost bruise-like circles staining the pale skin under his eyes and his golden hair was flat now, limp and dull.

Michael looked more concerned every time he happened to catch a glimpse of his husband now and Luke felt the guilt clawing at him. None of this was Michael's fault - Luke was more trouble than he was worth.

He found that thought strange once he actually stopped to reflect on it because that indicated that he was putting a _Human_ before himself and, honestly, that has been unheard of before he'd arrived in the Kingdom of Sydney and had his life turned upside down.

Michael was already seated and waiting for Luke in the Courtroom when the Prince was stopped by his father just outside the doors. Andrew's brow creased at his son's gaunt, exhausted face but he still gripped Luke's shoulder firmly, giving him a shake.

"My son," Andrew said and Luke closed his eyes for a moment as the ring burnt hot around his finger. If Luke's magic hadn't been locked away, he would have torn the Palace apart.

" _Don't_ call me that," Luke said in an icy little voice, making Andrew's brow rise infinitesimally.

"If you insist," the King of the Faeries said and his voice was cold. "Why are you here anyway? We have no need of your counsel."

Luke glared at his father, firing up immediately. "Michael has requested my presence in almost every council meeting! I think _he_ can make that decision! Not _you_."

"You're only his _husband_ ," Andrew said sharply, his eyes flashing with blue fire. "Michael is your Keeper and it's time you learned your place. You're a bargaining chip. You're _nothing_... so don't delude yourself."

Luke's hands curled into fists but his breath was ragged in his chest. He could see one of the Guards by the door listening with poorly-disguised concern on his face. The Human caught Luke's anguished gaze, gesturing towards the King where he sat in the Courtroom. Fractionally, Luke nodded and the man disappeared inside.

Andrew was still breathing heavily in front of the Prince and his cheeks were flushed red with anger now.

"What? You have nothing to say for yourself, my son?" Andrew asked and his smile was more a baring of teeth.

Luke's heart stung at his father's words as a horrible thought occurred to him.

"Did you view my mother like she was an object too?" the Prince demanded and his piercing blue eyes were burning with tears. "Is that why she killed herself?"

Michael appeared in the doorway of the Courtroom just as Andrew's curled fist began to crackle with magic.

Michael cleared his throat to get their attention and, although the sound was rather polite and unassuming, his emerald eyes flashed with fury.

"You would be ill-advised to raise your hand to my husband, in these halls or anywhere else," the black-haired man said quietly. He walked closer and Andrew's hand fell to rest at his side.

"I was merely disciplining my son," the Faerie said reproachfully and Luke shuddered, even as Michael raised Luke's hand, brushing his lips lightly across the blond Faerie's knuckles and making Luke stare at him in shock.

"You've disciplined him enough with this ghastly ring, in my opinion at least," Michael said and there was pain in his eyes now. "Now let us continue negotiations regarding receiving and exchanging aid. These losses have been heavy on us all, Your Majesty."

"Quite," Andrew said, fixing the pair of them with a cold, _disappointed_ look before he turned on his heel, marching into the Courtroom and barking at everyone to be quiet.

Michael's gaze softened when he turned to face Luke although he let the blond Faerie's hand fall, like maybe Michael's actions had surprised _him_ too.

"Are you coming inside to help us?" the Human asked kindly but Luke's eyes were still burning with tears as his father's words turned over and over in his head.

"No," Luke breathed, hanging his head as a tear escaped, rolling down his cheek. He had never felt more ashamed.

Despite this - and at the concern on Michael's kind, burnt face - Luke forced a watery smile onto his own face. It didn't even come _close_ to reaching his eyes.

"You go and look after your Kingdom," the blond Faerie said weakly and Michael's expression became strangely fond as he let his fingertips brush Luke's cool cheekbone gently.

"You've changed," the King said softly. Luke's lips tugged up weakly at the corners.

"You haven't," he said.

Michael disappeared back into the Courtroom, straightening his back and raising his chin as he strode over to his throne.

Beside him, Andrew sat with a calculating look on his face as he listened to Michael welcome everyone. The shadows behind the Faerie King shifted and Luke's heart seemed to still in his chest when he spied Ashton leaning against the wall. The Captain of the Guards' hazel eyes were cold as he listened to everything.

' _You're **nothing**_.'

Luke's pretty eyes burnt with furious tears as the pain in his chest overwhelmed him and, before he had time to properly consider it, Luke's fist was driving into the stone wall nearby.

He didn't remember until he heard the crunch of breaking bones that his strength had been sapped by losing his magic too and, as his knuckles started to throb agonisingly, Luke's humiliated tears fell with such frequency that they threatened to drown him.

He was embarrassed and furious and _devastated_ , and Luke ran, even as the same concerned Guard from before offered to call a physician.

Luke's sky blue eyes were blurry with tears as he cradled his broken knuckles protectively and he kept running but every passageway looked the same to the Faerie and, soon enough, he was hopelessly lost.

Luke's knees weakened beneath him and he crumpled, wrapping his good arm around his legs as he pulled them up to his chest. He was sitting in a deserted stairwell, pressed back against the wall as the cold seeped into his bones.

Michael found Luke over an hour later, huddled up with his broken hand, still just as angry and humiliated and furious as he had been before the negotiations had begun.

" _L-Luke_ ," the King said and his voice cracked. He looked exhausted and grey faced. Dimly, the Prince wondered how long his husband had been searching for him for. " _Snowflake_ , what happened?"

"Snowflake?" Luke's voice was thick with tears and his tired eyes were rimmed with red when he raised his head, just in time to see Michael's weak smile tugging at his lips.

"Sure," the King said softly, crouching down beside him. "You're small and cold and beautiful. Snowflake is perfect."

Luke's jaw dropped open and he gazed at Michael with glistening, tear wet eyes as he reached for him. The Faerie looped his arms gently around the Human's neck and Michael held Luke close as he helped him stand.

The Prince whimpered, snatching his sore hand away and clutching it to his chest as another sob tore out of him.

Michael's arm slipped around Luke's waist again and his expression twisted with concern.

"What happened, Luke?" Michael asked gently, thumbing the Prince's tears away gently as they collected in the corners of his eyes and trickled down his cheeks.

"Punched a wall," Luke gasped out before a slightly hysterical peal of laughter escaped him. Michael's lips twitched too but his eyes were still deeply unhappy, even as they twinkled at what he said next.

"That was a lapse of judgement," the King said and Luke sniffed mournfully, tucking his face away into Michael's neck.

"Come on," Michael breathed, dropping a kiss onto the top of Luke's head without thinking. "Let's get you to a physician."

 

**_Someday, when you are further,_ **

**_I'll take a deep breath and I'll grow stronger._ **

 

Luke was sobbing again and Michael was growing worried.

It seemed like all Luke ever did was cry these days; weep and punch things and scream at people who hadn’t done anything wrong. The King couldn’t find it in himself to blame the Prince though.

He couldn’t even _imagine_ how difficult everything must have been to get used to because it wasn’t just a forced marriage (which would have been bad enough on its own) - it was also a different Race, a completely new _species_.

It must have been unimaginably difficult and it cut Michael deep to listen to Luke silently crying himself to sleep every night when he thought his husband was already unconscious.

Michael wished he wasn’t growing undeniably fond of the Faerie.

He wished Luke had been given a _choice_.

The Prince was still crying now, even as he wiped his tears away furiously with his bandaged hand and sank down onto the bed, ducking his head as shame bloomed on his beautiful tear-stained face.

“Snowflake,” Michael said softly and he knew his bright eyes were wet too. He wished he didn’t care for Luke. He wished this had never happened to the poor Fae. “Please tell me what’s wrong. I want to help you.”

Luke’s laugh was watery and hysterical and _furious_. Michael’s eyes were sad.

“You _c-can’t_ help!” Luke said but his voice cracked, even as it gradually grew louder and louder. “I want you to be as bad as I _thought_ you were! I wanted you to take advantage of me so I could hate you for a _reason_! But… but you were _nice_ and… and _good_ and purer than I’ll _ever_ be and… and now I don’t know what to _do_...”

Luke’s voice trailed off in dismay and Michael’s legs were shaking a little as he sat down hesitantly on the bed beside the Prince, fiddling with the edge of one of their blankets as Luke’s breath escaped him in a little hiccuping sob.

“What do you mean?” Michael whispered and Luke’s beautiful blue eyes were brimming with tears as he looked up, catching the King’s gaze. The abject _agony_ on Luke’s face took Michael’s breath away and all he wanted to do in that moment was take the pain away but… but he was the _cause_ of a lot of it and there was nothing he could _do_.

Luke dropped his head into his hands, biting down hard on his bottom lip as he shuddered with another sob. His eyes were dry of tears now though, sore and red-looking. When Michael reached out to take Luke’s shoulder gently, his pale hand was trembling.

“I’m not… _perfect_.” The Prince’s voice had stopped shaking now but his pained eyes were empty. “I’m flawed. I…” Luke’s bottom lip wobbled and he bit down on it again, too hard. Michael didn’t think he was allowed to ask Luke to stop.

“Please tell me what you’re thinking,” the King whispered, running a hand through his messy black hair as a tear rolled down his burnt face.

“My father raised me to think that the Fae were better than Humans… that _I_ was better… and I believed him for a long time,” Luke whispered and the remorse on his pale face sent a pang through Michael’s chest. “But now I see that he was wrong,” Luke said softly, even as his eyes fell to rest on the dragon-forged ring on his finger. “I see that you… you _Humans_ are better than we’ll ever be. I mean… you’re a _King_ but you’re still the kindest person I’ve ever met… except perhaps my mother…”

Luke faltered and Michael couldn’t help himself when he pulled the Prince gently into his arms. Luke was stiff at first but he soon melted into the touch, tucking his cold face away into the warmth of Michael’s throat and wrapping his arms around the King’s shoulders.

“Luke,” Michael said quietly, keeping his voice low so that it wouldn’t have a chance to break. The blond Faerie’s shoulders were shaking and Michael had to fight to swallow past the lump in his throat as he carded his fingers gently through Luke’s flyaway blond hair. “ _Snowflake_... you’re putting too much pressure on yourself and -”

“But my father -”

“ _Forget_ your father,” Michael said sharply but his eyes were soft when Luke looked up at him, his jaw hanging slack like Michael’s words had shocked him.

The King was struck with the sudden thought that Luke might have passed seventy summers but he couldn’t have been more than nineteen or twenty in Human years - younger even than _Michael_ and he was one of the youngest Kings the Kingdom of Sydney had ever seen at just twenty three.

“You shine so bright, Luke,” Michael said softly and the blond Faerie touched Michael’s cheek gently, brushing the pads of his fingers so lightly against the burn scarring the King’s face. Luke’s clear blue eyes were sparkling with tears. “You’re _beautiful_. One day you’ll see it.”

The Faerie’s breath caught in his throat and Michael heard it, heard the sharp little intake as his hand moved to cup the Human’s cheek instead.

Michael swallowed audibly, felt his emerald eyes widening a little as Luke’s eyes flickered down to his lips and - and for just a moment Michael thought Luke was going to _kiss_ him.

“Snowflake,” Michael choked out, pushing Luke back gently with a hand on his shoulder. “You’re upset. You don’t want this.”

The Faerie’s eyes filled with tears again and it reaffirmed his youth to Michael.

Luke was _young_. He needed someone to take care of him.

“You’re so _honourable_ ,” Luke mumbled and he laughed quietly but it was a sad, lonely sound.

His forehead fell to rest against Michael’s shoulder and the words he spoke next were loud in the silence: “I don’t hate you at all, Michael.”

The King’s lips tugged up weakly as another tear rolled down his burnt face.

“I don’t hate you either.”

Luke smiled too, watery and faint but still there. Michael’s hand gave his shoulder a comforting squeeze.

“You’re beautiful when you smile,” he said quietly before he frowned a little. “Or when you cry.”

Luke looked bashful as he ducked his head when a blush coloured his cheeks. His expression was flattered as he smiled shyly beneath his golden hair and his eyes were bright.

He was so breathtakingly beautiful that Michael wondered how this beautiful creature could _ever_ have been permitted to marry him.

Michael’s crown had been removed earlier on in the evening but he felt heavier with these new worries. Luke was the opposite though. Despite the iron ring and his wedding band, the Prince looked lighter than Michael had ever seen him, even as the King’s crushing fears for Luke and his Kingdom and the war in general threatened to drag him through the floor.

When Luke’s lips brushed Michael’s forehead gently, the King closed his eyes tight.

“I will do everything in my power to make you as happy as you can be,” Michael said and Luke stroked the Human's neck, letting his fingers dance across the pale skin like he was painting shapes on a canvas.

“I won’t hide from you,” the Prince answered softly.

Michael didn’t know if that was a threat or a promise.

 

**_There are so many demons at my door._ **

 

Luke saw Ashton again the next time the Faerie Court returned to Sydney to continue negotiations.

Luke had once again been permitted to attend and King Andrew strode into Michael’s Courtroom without even looking at his son. That stung but Luke thought it was better in a way. At least he didn’t have to pretend that he wasn’t phased by what had happened to him.

It had shaken Luke up so much that it _hurt_.

Before the Prince had too much time to dwell on that though, his husband rose, spreading his arms in welcome as everyone seated around the table fell silent to listen. Although Michael started speaking in his usual cheerful tone, it quickly fell away to reveal something much more wary underneath.

“This war continues to grow more and more dangerous,” the young man said and someone chuckled, like Michael was foolish for pointing it out. The King’s emerald green eyes flashed. “Eight of my Knights have been killed during their patrols these past weeks. This indicates that our enemies are closer than ever and we still don’t have a plan in place for when Cal makes his final move -”

“You call your enemy ‘ _Cal_ ’?” Ashton interrupted, watching the Human curiously. The Captain of the Guards looked bemused as he shared a glance with King Andrew. Luke looked away, swallowing uncomfortably.

“It’s a habit unfortunately,” Michael said and he sounded uneasy now as his palms fell to rest flat on the tabletop. “King Calum and I grew up together. We were best friends.” Michael’s breath escaped him in a small, sad sigh but Luke thought he was the only one who had heard it. “It’s strange how times change.”

“It must be very difficult to wage a war against your childhood friend though, surely?” the Captain said. It was a leading question at best. Luke felt his lip curling but he kept his eyes averted, lest the pain show on his face.

“I do what needs to be done,” Michael said dismissively and his expression became closed off as he began to speak again, querying how the Faeries were defending their supply lines from Calum’s men.

Luke’s shoulders slumped as a little of the tension left the room and his eyes fell to rest on his bandaged hand before they drifted up towards the painted landscape on the ceiling.

He looked at the snow-capped Great Mountains and the lush green forests of the Realm of Faerie, divided as it was by the immense forked river that split it into five sections. Luke could see the sprawling Kingdom of Sydney - painted golden on the map - and the amber of Calum’s Victoria as it stretched across Paelar towards the coast.

It was so beautiful and Luke was so glad he’d got the chance to see it.

He began to berate himself, irritated that he had allowed his focus to slip when they were talking about something so interesting and important. Luke looked back down at the table but he felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise when he found Ashton’s hazel eyes locked on his face.

The Captain’s lips tugged up a little at the corners as he gave Luke a shy smile but the blond Faerie’s heart was racing, thrumming like a woodpecker in Luke’s fragile chest.

The discussion finished far too quickly for Luke’s liking but Michael stayed behind to go over further details with Andrew while everyone else was asked to leave.

The Prince’s heart beat faster when he lingered a short way down the corridor to wait for Michael and found Ashton doing the same thing.

“Luke?” The Faerie’s voice was the same as ever - smooth and lilting and heartrendingly beautiful - and his caramel curls were still soft as they fell down into his bright honey-coloured eyes. The only difference now was that he put Luke on edge because every instinct inside the Prince was screaming that Ashton was _dangerous_ and not to be trusted.

That hurt Luke more than being burdened with the ring did (and if it was _only_ the iron ring that pained the Prince now and not the wedding band… well, that was for Luke to know and for absolutely _no one_ else to find out.)

“I missed you,” Ashton said quietly and his eyes were soft but there was no trace of guilt in them. It turned Luke’s stomach, that Ashton could think of that betrayal as his duty and nothing more… like Luke had meant _that_ little to him.

The older Fae’s hand cupped Luke’s cheek and the Prince jerked away in shock, his cornflower blue eyes wide beneath his golden hair.

“I’m married and you betrayed me,” Luke hissed and he was pleasantly surprised when his voice didn’t shake. “You don’t get to touch me.”

Ashton’s brow rose and he tilted his head to the side a little, looking for all the world like a cat watching a mouse as it backed it into a corner.

“You don’t want me anymore?” the Captain asked quietly. His lips were pursed like he was disappointed but his eyes were clear of pain. Luke’s stubborn love for Ashton was bitter as it trickled sluggishly through his veins. It was _toxic_ and Luke couldn’t wait to be free of it.

“No,” Luke whispered and his eyes were dry now, even as the doors at the end of the corridor opened to reveal both Kings. “No, I don’t.”

Ashton gave a shrug, like he didn’t care at all, but the Prince spied the briefest flicker of pain in Ashton’s expression as he shouldered past him.

Luke wished he could feel happy about that but all he had inside him was pain and emptiness.

When Michael gave his hand a gentle squeeze as he fell into step beside Luke though, the flame in the Prince’s chest gave a little spark of interest and the shadows receded somewhat.

Michael shone brighter than anyone Luke had ever _met_.

 

**_Take a number, if that's what you're here for._ **

 

Luke couldn’t sleep that night.

Michael’s silhouette was illuminated by the silvery moonlight as he lay sprawled on the bed, his face soft and vacant in sleep. His black hair was even more messy than it was in the day and the burn around his eye was stark against the lily-white of his skin.

Again, Luke wondered what had happened to the Human lying beside him.

The Prince's pale hand was shaking when he raised it, letting it fall to rest against Michael's cheek. The King's skin was warm and rough beneath Luke's hand, the stubble catching against the soft pads of Luke's fingertips as he looked at his husband in the darkness.

"Snowflake?" Michael mumbled, leaning into the touch, even as his emerald eyes stayed stubbornly shut. The _trust_ on the King's face made Luke's heart ache.

"I'm sorry," the Prince breathed and Michael opened his eyes at that, covering Luke's palm with his own although he looked surprised that the Faerie was touching him so gently out of choice.

"What are you sorry for?" Michael whispered, taking Luke's free hand in his own and pressing a kiss to the blond Faerie's knuckles.

Luke's heart gave a pang in his chest.

"It was when we first met," the Prince whispered and he ducked his head as a tear rolled down his cheek. Luke realised, perhaps belatedly, that he was trembling at the cool temperature of the room but his shudders slowly lessened when Michael moved to wrap his arms around Luke gently.

The King was taller than Luke, strong and broad where Luke was fragile and weak in his well-muscled arms.

"Talk to me," Michael murmured and Luke's guilt threatened to choke him.

"Those few nights... after we got married... I... I wanted to... to..." The Prince's voice was shaking and he let his palm fall to rest gently against Michael's throat, firm without any pressure. The King's emerald eyes widened but all he did was swallow thickly, staring up at Luke with sadness plain on his face.

"There are so many people trying to kill me," Michael whispered and his eyes were glittering with hopeless tears now. Luke's breath caught painfully in his throat. "Would you really do the same?"

" _No_ ," the Fae Prince whispered and he looked up, taking Michael's face gently in both of his hands and dropping a kiss onto the King's forehead. "Never in a million years would I wish ill upon you now."

The words surprised Luke but, even as he spoke them, the Prince knew they were the truth.

"But... the ring... the marriage..." Michael looked like he couldn't understand why he was speaking and Luke's eyes softened when he saw the uncertainty on the King's face.

"But that isn't _your_ fault," Luke whispered, still cupping Michael's face gently as he tilted it this way and that, taking in his cherry-red lips and long lashes fanning out across the cheekbones of his heart-shaped face. "That's my father and..." Luke choked on Ashton's name and shook his head as more tears spilled down his cheeks.

Michael brushed them away with his thumbs but Luke was frowning down at him now, stroking Michael's black hair away from his face one-handed as Luke propped himself up with his chin resting on his palm.

"You didn't call the Guards," the blond Faerie whispered and the King's exhaustion was evident on his face when he let out a sad sigh.

"I trust you," Michael said simply and a lump rose in Luke's throat as he lay back down again, letting his head fall to rest in the gentle curve where Michael's neck met his shoulder.

"I don't deserve that," Luke whispered and the King made a soft shushing sound before murmuring: "I disagree."

The pair fell silent but it was comfortable. The stars were glittering faintly through the stained glass of the windows and it would have been perfect if Luke had been able to hear the sea... and if his heart hadn't crumbled to pieces in his chest.

"How did you burn your face?"

The words had escaped Luke before he'd stopped to consider it and, although Michael looked hurt, the Prince didn't think it was because of him.

"I mentioned today that Calum and I had been best friends as children. Do you remember?" the King asked quietly and Luke nodded, biting down hard on his bottom lip. Michael eased it out from between Luke's teeth gently with his fingertip and the Faerie's cheeks flushed as he hid his face in Michael's neck.

"Cal and I were playing in the forest during the summer. It was a hot day and there were no clouds in the sky, and we were playing a make believe game where we were both knights - that much I remember." Michael smiled faintly and Luke wrapped his arm around the King's chest, cuddling closer to him as Michael's own arm snaked around the Prince's waist.

"It was a Faerie," the King murmured and Luke winced despite himself because now the burn made sense. The mark was almost the shape of a rose, and it was strange and beautiful and terrible.

"Why were you hurt?" Luke breathed and Michael's eyes were shut now, even as they flickered behind his lids, like he could still see it happening in front of him.

"I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time," the King said with a careful little shrug, like it didn't really matter to him. His muscles were tense though and Luke pressed a kiss to his bare shoulder, trying to make him feel less alone.

"The physicians thought I was going to lose half my face but somehow it healed up," Michael whispered, presumably so his voice wouldn't have a chance to catch. "It grew too dangerous for us to play together and we had to stop... and then Calum was taken back to Victoria and I barely saw him anymore."

"I'm sorry," the Prince breathed. "That you had to go through that and that you lost Calum and... and for everything. I'm so _sorry_."

Michael tried to smile but the suppressed agony on his face was painfully clear.

"How can you let the Fae close to you now?" Luke whispered suddenly and his crystal blue eyes were wide with shock. "How can you forgive and forget so readily? That's something I've never been able to do."

Michael's answering smile was bleak as he let his eyes fall shut for one last time that night.

"Maybe that's where you're going wrong then," the King said mildly but Luke wouldn't - _couldn't_ \- answer.

 

**_Paint me black, cover me up again._ **

**_I won't hide from you._ **

 

As the weeks passed, Michael grew more and more stressed and, although he never said it outright - and Luke knew they weren’t at enormous risk of losing the war - the Prince thought it had a lot to do with the fact that the King’s childhood best friend was likely not to survive.

Luke knew it was awful of him but he tried to use the distraction to get Michael to remove the ring. The Faerie begged Michael at every moment, pleading as he tugged on his husband’s sleeve and pressed desperate kisses to the back of his hand because - in his desperation - he couldn’t think how else to convince him.

Michael never weakened.

His resolve was iron like the ring leeching Luke’s magic from him and burning him when the power beneath his skin boiled too hot.

“Snowflake, you _know_ I can’t,” Michael would say pleadingly, taking Luke’s hands in both of his own and kissing his knuckles. “Not now. Not _yet_.”

Luke felt guilty that he’d only been making things harder for the King. Michael had enough on his plate as it was without his husband adding to it.

They’d been talking in more depth lately too though, about the differences in their cultures and their upbringings, their likes and dislikes.

One morning Michael woke up early and found Luke standing by the window, gazing out sleepily over the courtyard as he distractedly stroked his hand over the smooth wood of a table nearby.

“Why doesn’t _that_ wood bother you?” the young man asked, his voice thick with sleep and his black hair a messy cloud around his head as he pushed himself up clumsily into a sitting position. Luke’s heart swelled with fondness. “Why doesn’t the wood used to make the desk or the tables and chair upset you but the torches do?”

Luke looked at Michael for a long time, trying to work out if it was worth attempting to explain before he gave a little shrug, smiling weakly as he wandered over, dropping down onto the soft sheets beside Michael and entwining their fingers absently.

“The Fae… we… we can tell when a tree is close to dying,” Luke explained quietly, trying to use small words because Michael still looked half-asleep. Luke stroked Michael’s black hair gently, carding his fingers through it, and a soft contented sigh escaped the Human as he slumped back down onto the pillows, still hanging onto his husband’s words sleepily.

“We can tell with our magic and… and, if we listen hard enough, we can hear the tree's  _age_... the reason for its death…”

Michael's eyes gradually became more alert as he silently listened to his husband.

The blond Faerie smiled gently as he glanced away, pointing towards the table.

“Lightning felled that tree and it was so sudden that there was no pain for the nymph inside.”

“Nymph?” Michael repeated, frowning slightly. “What’s that?”

Luke’s blue eyes were soft.

“A nymph is the spirit of the tree, Mike,” he told him and it was only after the pair of them fell silent that Luke realised what he’d called his husband. Michael looked pleasantly surprised though and Luke couldn’t take that away from him.

“You still didn’t explain why it doesn’t bother you,” the King pointed out softly and the Faerie was grateful for the distraction.

“If a tree died or was dying of natural causes then it is infinitely kinder than felling trees for the simple reason that you need wood. And besides, you’re still _using_ the wood then. It’s used to make something that will last. With a tree nymph’s permission, that can be acceptable. But you must never, _ever_ burn wood. That’s an atrocious thing to do.”

Michael’s frown seemed permanently etched onto his forehead by now but it was clear that he was thinking hard.

“We can try to use candles instead of torches,” the King said thoughtfully before he quietly amended: “In the Palace at least. It won’t be cheap but until we can come up with a better, safer method - most likely once this dreadful war is over now - I promise you that I’ll try.” Michael’s green eyes were soft as Luke’s own began to swim with grateful tears. “I want you to be _happy_ , snowflake.”

Luke flung himself at Michael, wrapping his arms tightly around the Human's shoulders and hiding the iron ring beneath the pillow as he hugged him hard. The King let out a little huff of air when the Prince landed on him but Luke could see that Michael was smiling widely as they lay tangled there together as the sun slowly rose in the sky outside.

The pair of them stayed like that for hours but soon enough it was time for them to get up and face the day, and neither of them were much looking forward to it. There were many Court matters to attend with and, unfortunately, that meant most likely seeing his father and Ashton again.

Luke was dreading it but the King provided him with a much needed distraction when he rose unwillingly from the bed and Luke’s cool embrace because he needed to get ready.

Michael was standing shirtless in front of the mirror now, struggling to choose between three different tunics that one of the servants had left out for him. Michael caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror though and his shoulders seemed to slump a little when he took himself in.

Sadness welled inside Luke.

Michael’s skin was soft and white but there were more burns on his torso too, littering his pale form like red roses blooming in the dead of winter.

The self-doubt and what could almost be described as self- _loathing_ cut Luke to the core and he couldn’t help himself when his arms slipped hesitantly around Michael’s soft waist, holding the King close as Luke tucked his chin gently over Michael’s shoulder, dropping kisses onto the pale skin.

“You’re beautiful too,” he breathed before he grimaced at himself. “For a stinking _Human_.”

Michael laughed, elbowing Luke so gently in the ribs that he barely felt it.

“You’re flirting with me,” Michael noticed and his emerald eyes were dancing with poorly-suppressed laughter. “Who knew _you_ knew how to flirt?” Michael pretended to wipe a tear of mirth away and Luke smirked, folding his arms across his chest as the King rolled his eyes, shrugging into the first tunic he picked up.

“I’ve flirted before,” Luke said dismissively, rolling his eyes, keen to prove himself. “With Ashton or -”

“Ashton?” Michael looked hurt although it was clear that he was trying to hide it. “As in… _Captain of the Guards_ Ashton? The Faerie who serves your father?”

“The Faerie who betrayed me all those months ago?” Luke asked and his smile was tight and brittle. “Yes, the very same.”

Michael looked lost, standing there alone in the middle of the room as he fiddled self-consciously with the hem of his tunic. It made Luke want to fold Michael up in his arms but he didn’t think it would make the Human feel any better in that moment.

“Do you love him?” Michael whispered and his voice was bleak, empty, like Luke had drained the life out of him. The Faerie’s heart juddered painfully in his chest and his hands slipped down to take Michael’s, clasping them tightly.

“No,” the Prince said and he realised it was the truth as the word passed his pale pink lips. “He means nothing to me anymore. Not like you, Mike. _He’s_ not like you.”

“What am I?” the King asked softly but there was pain on his face now and Luke wanted to wipe it away.

“You’re kinder and funnier and sweeter than anyone I’ve ever met. You’re intelligent and brave and strong. You’re talented and you’ve achieved so much at so young an age. You’re purer than anyone I’ve ever known - Faerie _or_ Human.”

When Michael still didn’t look convinced, Luke gently pulled one of his hands free, reaching up to stroke the burn on Michael’s cheek.

“You’re _beautiful_ , Mike,” Luke whispered. “Inside and out.”

Michael’s emerald eyes were shining with tears again but there was still a faint trace of pain on his face and - and Luke didn’t want to just _wipe_ the hurt away...

Luke wanted to **kiss** him.

“You’re my snowflake,” Michael confessed softly - _reverently_ almost - and it felt like he knew what his husband was thinking somehow because, suddenly, there was no gap between them anymore and their mouths were bumping clumsily together in their haste as Michael’s hands came to rest on the Prince’s shoulders gently.

Luke tilted his head a little, making the kiss softer and slower because it was what they both needed and he couldn’t even _try_ to convince himself that this was just because he wanted to trick the King into removing the ring because… because Michael’s mouth tasted like vanilla and his lips were warm against Luke’s and softer than anything the Faerie had ever _felt_ before and... and kissing Ashton had _never_ been like this.

It made Luke **feel** again, despite having his magic pretty much stamped out and locked away inside of him.

Luke wanted to be frightened of what it meant but then Michael deepened the kiss with hesitant little licks of his tongue that made the Prince’s knees go weak and, when the blond Faerie’s fingers rose to wind gently through Michael’s messy black hair, Luke stopped thinking.

All that mattered was Michael’s lips and his hands and the soft drag of his tongue against Luke’s.

All that mattered was **Michael**.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please please let me know what you think because this means the world :)  
> I love you guys tons! <3


	3. Undeniable

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took me weeks to write holy shit.  
> I hope you don't hate it.

**_Paint me black, cover me up again._ **

**_I won't hide from you._ **

 

There were negotiations regarding the war going on almost every single day in the Courtroom now and the stress was more corrosive than dragon’s blood as it burnt at Michael like acid. The King rarely left the Courtroom and he only ate when Luke collected food from the kitchens to bring to him.

Although nobody ever said outright, Luke thought the final battle wasn’t far away now.

There was talk of Calum’s troops gathering in the east and Michael’s own armies were raring to fight.

It was rare that Luke and Michael got any time alone together at all these days but one of those infrequent occurrences came around eventually, and the pair of them went for a walk in the forest together.

A larger group of Guards than usual accompanied them but they still hung back and, if Luke focused on the fresh scent of the forest and Michael’s arm gently brushing against the Prince’s, Luke could _almost_ convince himself that things were like they had been at the beginning, back before everything had fallen apart around them.

The pair left their Guards a short way behind as they wandered and Luke tried to lose himself in the woodland around them. There were dried leaves crunching beneath their boots and bracken caught on the hem of Luke’s long forest-green tunic as they walked along beside a narrow, twisting river. The material of the Prince’s gown-like tunic shimmered in the sunlight and it was almost as sparkling and bright as Michael’s _eyes_.

Luke felt more comfortable surrounded by nature (with Michael) than he _ever_ did in the Palace but, even this far out in the woods, his magic was still buzzing in his veins like wasps.

Luke could ignore it sometimes, fight down against it as it boiled inside of him in its search for a way out, and occasionally he could lose himself in the cool iron of the dragon-forged ring before his unruly powers burnt him.

Today seemed not to be one of those times unfortunately.

The wasps became hornets as his magic fought more fiercely and Luke’s step faltered as his face creased with pain, and it was almost _impossible_ to feel at ease when his powers were stinging at him like that. Michael looked over when Luke mumbled a slightly stunned sounding: “ _Ouch_!” and his expression quickly became anxious when Luke flinched like his hand had encountered boiling water.

Luke fought not to think about it, fought to focus on the cool breeze and Michael’s soft green eyes and the gentle murmur of the wind through the trees but it was impossible because, the more he tried to distract himself, the more furiously his magic burned.

Dimly, Luke was pleased the bandage on his bruised hand had been removed because he was quite certain it would have caught aflame by now because the ring was burning red-hot on his finger and there was nothing the Prince could distract himself with to lessen the pain.

Luke’s eyes were blurring with tears and the welt rapidly forming on his finger was agonising enough that his knees felt shaky beneath him and -

Michael's warm fingers felt cold against Luke's overheated skin as the King led Luke swiftly towards the river, pushing his husband gently onto his knees as he plunged Luke's hand into the cool water.

The ring steamed at first and the pain on the Prince's face reached new heights before, thankfully, it cooled with a little hiss of air.

Luke slumped against Michael with relief as the Guards looked on in shock, letting out a low sob as the King pulled him tightly to his chest, holding Luke close.

“Snowflake, it’s okay,” Michael murmured but his breath escaped him in a little huff of air when Luke fell into his lap, burying his face in his husband’s neck as a sob tore out of him. “Shhh,” Michael breathed, rocking Luke slowly. He glanced up at his Guards and was pleased to note that they were lingering far enough away that they couldn’t hear. “Baby, it’s alright.” Michael’s lips brushed Luke’s forehead, his cheeks, the corner of his lips. “Snowflake, you’re alright now. You’re _safe_.”

Luke let out another heaving sob but he jerked his head up just in time to see the indecision clear on Michael’s face. The King reached hesitantly towards the iron ring on the Prince’s finger and, without thinking, Luke snatched his hand away. His eyes were soft and mournful and hurt.

“You can’t,” he whispered, catching Michael’s full lips in a gentle kiss before he tucked his face out of sight again. “You need my father’s men. If you remove the ring, he won’t help you. I’m sure of it.”

“But, _Luke_ , he _will_ still help us now! He swore an oath -” Michael began weakly but the Prince’s eyes were determined, blazing with so much emotion as the tears pooled up and trickled down his cheeks like crystals that Michael could scarcely catch his breath.

“Not now,” Luke whispered and he was repeating the King's words from before, Michael noted belatedly. “Not yet.”

The blond Faerie rose shakily, entwining his fingers with Michael’s as he helped the King stand.

Michael squeezed Luke’s hand softly as they returned to the Guards waiting anxiously on the path through the forest.

Luke didn’t let go of Michael’s hand the whole way home.

 

**_I won't hide from you, you, you._ **

**_I won't hide from you, you._ **

 

Michael was the sweetest fool Luke had ever had the misfortune to fall for.

The Faerie could see it in Michael’s crooked smiles and bashful glances, and in the guilty looks he kept shooting the dragon-forged ring on his husband’s finger, even _though_ the Prince had told him to keep it on.

Luke was beginning to regret his surprisingly honourable behaviour now though because, despite how many of Michael’s people he might have potentially saved, the ring still burned hot around his finger and he longed to have his magic back.

His powers still stung at the edge of his consciousness but Luke tried to embrace it as the distraction it was - at least when he was focusing on the pain and loss, he wasn’t dwelling on his rapidly-developing feels for Michael.

Luke soon discovered another much more pleasant distraction too and that came in the form of kissing Michael.

The Prince tried to convince himself that he was using the kisses to his advantage, that he wasn’t _really_ enjoying the feeling of the Human’s soft lips against his own.

They kissed at night-time sometimes, lying tangled together in each other’s arms as Luke lay pliantly under his husband and Michael licked into his mouth. The kissing made heat unfurl in the Faerie’s stomach, felt like butterflies fluttering under his skin as he began to harden between the warm press of their bodies.

Michael made a startled sound the first time it happened but his emerald eyes were darkened with lust and _happy_ when he saw how affected his husband was, and Luke couldn’t deny the little thrill of anticipation that shuddered down his spine when he felt Michael hardening too.

The pair didn’t actually _touch_ each other until early spring, when the threat of the war was looming so close on the horizon that every breath of air stolen felt like a victory.

It was a warm morning and, for once, Michael and Luke were free of duties.

They spent the hours following the dawn wrapped in each other’s embrace with Michael settled gently over Luke as they kissed, their tongues stroking as Luke caressed the pale skin of Michael’s back languidly with his small hands.

They were both hard, grinding slowly against each other as they started to feel too hot beneath the blankets and, when Luke kicked his legs bare and exposed himself to Michael, he watched with poorly-concealed lust when his husband swallowed, watching Luke with hooded eyes like his mouth had gone dry.

Luke’s hand shook when he moved, letting it slide down from Michael’s back to rest on his pale thigh before it edged down a little and -

Michael’s breath escaped him in a shocked hiss when Luke’s fingers gently brushed the stiff flesh between his legs and the heat of it surprised Luke. He’d never done anything like this with anyone before and the slightly frustrated pleasure on Michael’s burnt face only made the Human look _more_ beautiful and -

Luke couldn’t let himself think like that, not if he wanted to pretend that he was only trying to please Michael in an effort to get him to remove the ring (and if that was a lie then Luke could just ignore it until the feelings went away on their own).

“Snowflake,” Michael said breathlessly and that ruined everything. His pupils were blown and his eyes were soft and his kiss-bitten lips made Luke’s heart melt. “Snowflake, let me make _you_ feel good first. Please.”

Luke almost laughed at himself because trying to convince himself that he hadn’t fallen for the Human kneeling beside him with an earnest expression on his burnt face was _impossible_.

The Prince cared about him too much.

“Okay,” Luke breathed, not really sure what to expect because he knew the feeling of his own hand of course but that was the most pleasure he had ever experienced.

When Michael smiled and folded one of their pillows up before gently setting it beneath his husband’s hips, Luke realised that maybe he was about to become more knowledgeable after all.

Luke lifted his hips to help Michael in removing his tunic and the King's eyes darkened further when they settled on the Faerie's pearly white skin, cool as the night against Michael's warm hand.

Luke's cock was flushed a delicate pink - the colour of peonies almost - and the Faerie shuddered when Michael let his palm ghost along its length. Luke squeezed his sapphire blue eyes tightly shut and his golden eyelashes were spiky with what _might_ have been tears when Michael's hand drifted lower.

He rolled Luke's balls gently in his palm for a moment, apparently relishing the soft little whimpers that were escaping the Prince as he thrust his hips clumsily into Michael's hand, chasing the pressure as - seemingly impossibly - Luke hardened _further_.

The blond Faerie let out a choked whine when Michael's hand moved away but the sound caught in Luke's throat when Michael stroked the pad of one finger gently over his damp hole.

“You're wet?” Michael breathed in surprise and Luke’s cheeks flushed pink as Michael’s breath ghosted over him because it made the blond Faerie’s cock kick against his stomach.

“It's a Fae thing,” Luke managed to mumble but his breath caught when Michael ducked his head, licking flat over the opening as Luke's thighs tensed around his head.

"Just relax, snowflake," Michael said softly, stroking Luke's pale skin gently before he moved back down again.

Luke's hole was as pink as the blossoms clinging to the trees outside and the blond Faerie shuddered when the tip of Michael's cherry-red tongue breached him.

" _Mike_ ," Luke gasped and his words were slurred now. "Mikey, _please_."

No one had ever touched the Prince like this before and the lust Luke could feel was making him dizzy.

“I’ve got you,” Michael breathed against Luke’s overheated skin before his tongue began to caress Luke’s entrance again, playful and gentle all at once as Luke squirmed, trying to rock his hips back in an effort to get more inside him and whining when Michael gripped the blond Faerie’s hips to still him.

Michael’s mouth was hot and Luke’s flushed cock was leaking pre-come onto his pale, flat stomach as he knotted his fingers gently into the Human’s black hair, whimpering as Michael worked his tongue in deep.

It made Luke’s toes curl as the heat spread through his stomach and Michael was humming contentedly now, pushing closer like he couldn’t get enough of it as he curled his tongue, licking the inside walls and making Luke’s cock kick harder as his hips jerked back.

It wasn’t just the lust that was making Luke’s breath escape him in panting gasps though.

It was the undeniable _love_ the Prince could feel melting the ice in his aching chest.

Luke didn’t have time to be scared though because Michael did something new with his tongue and Luke’s hips jerked even harder, and the moans escaping him were _embarrassingly_ loud now. Luke’s muscles were fluttering as the Human slowly licked in and out of him, and the heat coiling in the Prince’s stomach had reached boiling point and -

Michael’s soft hand reached up to stroke Luke’s achingly hard cock and that - combined with the hot flicks of Michael’s tongue as he pressed it deep inside the Prince - pushed Luke over the edge.

The blond Faerie fell apart, arching his back as he coated his stomach with pearly-white come. His orgasm seemed to come from his toes almost, rising up and crashing down over him like a tidal wave.

Luke’s head was spinning and he didn’t think he’d ever felt that good before as he slumped back down onto the sheets with a soft whimper. His skin was covered with a light sheen of sweat and he was sticky now, needed to clean up but _first_ he needed to kiss the desperation from Michael’s face and bury the love Luke could feel in his heart again, deep enough that no one else could find it.

“Snowflake,” Michael breathed, cupping Luke’s face gently and stroking the soft skin beneath the Prince’s bright eyes with the pads of his thumbs. The blond Faerie smiled, surging forwards to catch Michael’s lips with his own as he twisted to straddle the black-haired Human’s lap. It didn’t give Luke time to panic about the emotion he could feel blazing in his chest.

Luke reached down between them, palming Michael gently and relishing the broken little groan that escaped the Human as his eyes fluttered shut. “Luke, you don’t owe me anything.”

The Faerie smiled and his teeth were white as they sank gently into Michael’s bottom lip.

“I know,” Luke breathed and Michael groaned into his husband’s mouth when the Prince slipped his hand beneath Michael’s tunic, curling his fingers hesitantly around him and tightening his grip when Michael whined. “But I want to.”

Luke had no idea what he was doing but he didn’t let himself think. He simply pushed Michael gently back onto the pillows and leant down to kiss him, uncaring of everything but his husband’s lips against his and the slick heat of Michael’s rock-hard cock as it glided smoothly through the blond Faerie’s fist.

The soft moans tearing out of Michael’s heaving chest were addictive and Luke threw caution to the wind as he bent to kiss the head of Michael’s cock, eager to hear what other sounds the Human could make.

“Let me taste you,” Luke whispered and the words felt dirty but he couldn’t quite find it in himself to _care_. “Please.”

Michael’s desperate: “ _Yes_!” came out strangled but Luke let his eyes slide shut as he took the head of Michael’s cock into his mouth, hollowing his cheeks around it as he stroked what he couldn’t reach.

Luke was almost _certain_ that he was doing a terrible job but the choked groans and the way Michael was desperately fighting to keep his hips from rocking forwards spoke otherwise.

“ _Snowflake_ ,” Michael gasped out and his voice was rough now, sending shivers of _something_ tumbling down Luke’s spine like sparks as the King began to unravel in front of him, his emerald eyes dark. “ _Please_ , I’m going to -”

Luke hollowed his cheeks again, sucking harder as Michael climaxed with a broken moan, sobbing out: “ _Luke_!” as he screwed up his burnt face at the pleasure coursing through him.

Absently, Luke thought Michael looked vulnerable and _small_ as he fell apart but, mostly, the Prince was simply focused on the sinking feeling in his chest that felt heavier than the metaphorical chain he bore thanks to his father - the little dragon-forged ring that seemed to weigh more than all of Paelar put together - and Luke knew, without a single trace of doubt in his mind, that he loved the weak little Human lying beneath him.

When Michael gazed back down at Luke with glitter-soft emerald green eyes, Luke knew Michael loved him too.

It did _not_ feel as terrifying as it should have done.

 

**_I'll lay low and someday I'll let you go._ **

 

As the days passed, Luke's love for Michael began to scare him.

He fell in love the way icy lakes cracked open at the end of winter, so gradual that it almost felt like Luke had had no warning, no time to prepare.

He found he couldn’t regret it though. Michael’s emerald eyes were too gentle and his cherry-red lips were too soft against Luke’s.

The Prince still felt the dragon-forged ring weighing down his finger but, whenever the stinging of his imprisoned magic became too much and the metal burnt into his skin, Michael distracted him with hushed words and soft touches as he kissed the pain from Luke’s face.

The war grew ever closer.

Michael never said it out loud - no one did, not even the leaders of the allied kingdoms who were arriving from all over Paelar in preparation for the fight - but Luke could see it in the lines creasing Michael’s burnt face, in the crow's feet that refused to fade from the corners of his tired eyes.

Luke barely got to spend any time at all alone with the King these days and it made continuing to adjust to his new life a terrible struggle.

Luke spent a lot of time in the courtyard where he could oversee the Guards training because it meant that he was out of the Palace - and away from Ashton and his father - and surrounded by trees and grass instead. The close proximity to nature calmed Luke, like raindrops over parched ground almost, or the lull at the end of a storm.

Luke and Michael spent one final day together before the Battle of Paelar began but, at the time, they didn’t know it was the last time they would spend together before everything crumbled to dust around them.

The pair went for a walk alone through the forests on the outskirts of Paelar, recklessly close to the border between Sydney and Victoria. Luke had sadly pointed out that he hadn’t been near the ocean for a long time - he missed it almost as much as he missed his _mother_ sometimes - but he hadn’t thought Michael would agree when the only coast nearby was in Calum’s Kingdom.

“We can’t go to the beach itself,” Michael told Luke apologetically but he entwined their fingers, leading Luke gently deeper down the path. “But we can go to the cliffs on the edge of Sydney, where the woodland ends. You can see the ocean from there.”

A lump rose in Luke’s throat at his husband’s kindness but he quickened his pace, trying to enjoy the nature soaking the air around them and not the slight unease he could feel buzzing through him that emanated from his bound magic.

Luke turned back after a moment, reaching for Michael. The King reached out too and his fingertips just barely brushed Luke’s, warm and soft but too far away to hold onto him.

Later, they would realise the foreshadowing of that fragile touch.

“Thank you,” Luke told Michael softly as the sun began to sink behind the pine trees, painting the skies with reds and ambers and yellows as the shadows stretched across the long, gently swaying grass like black ink.

Michael smiled at Luke softly but he didn’t reply.

The air in the forest was still and sweet, fresh with pine needles and sharp with the faintest salty tang of the ocean. It was darker in the trees, all purplish-navy as the dying light filtered down through the thick leaves clinging to the branches overhead.

The deeper into the forest the pair wandered, the darker it became as the shadows stretched over them.

Both of them were aware that it was a stupid idea being this far out of the city - this close to Calum's Kingdom Victoria - without Guards but neither of them pointed this out. The hairs on the back of Luke's neck rose though and Michael loosened his sword in its sheath warily. Luke remained silent, fighting to ignore the dull burn of the dragon-forged ring on his finger.

The Prince didn’t know where the underlying fear came from but it made his heart race harder in his chest and the only thing that calmed him was the hesitant smile Michael gently shot him as they walked side by side through the darkness.

Luke's discomfort soon returned though, churning inside him and making his breath catch with what might  _soon_ become panic.

"Mike," Luke said softly and his voice was hoarse, barely more than a whisper but it sounded deafening. "Mikey, I don't think we -"

" _Snowflake_ ," Michael whispered and he looked unsettled by the forced calm that had settled over the forest too. (When Luke regained his wits later, he would realise with a sick sense of dread that he should have realised something was wrong because being surrounded by trees would _never_ have frightened him so much if all was as it should have been.)

"I'm -" _Worried_? _Anxious_? _Afraid_? Luke faltered. "I can hear the sea."

Michael tightened his grip around the Prince's hand, tugging him along gently off the path.

Thorns and bracken caught on Luke's well-worn green tunic but that at least was a familiar sensation. It reminded him of being back home, spinning through the woodland beyond the Citadel in King Andrew's Realm like he was dizzy and drunk on love for Ashton.

But Luke had never been in love with the Captain of the Guards. He knew that now, felt it in the steady pounding of his aching heart when he looked at Michael and relished in the suffocating **adoration** he now felt that had always been absent before.

Luke felt like one of the tiny worn boats he had seen shattered against rocks on the long journey from his home to Sydney. They'd passed a bay at one point and he'd seen the shards of wood, splintered and cracked as they clawed up into the white sky, and Luke had felt the same, with his burning magic and the emptiness inside of him.

Luke didn't feel like that anymore.

He felt like a ship that had passed through a terrible storm but had reached the other side, had kept floating and fighting even when he couldn't steer due to the current, and the Human King was the harbour now.

Michael was Luke's safe place.

The Prince had been so caught up in his thoughts that he hadn't even realised that it felt like he was being watched now but, when this occurred to him, the unease became full blown fear.

" _Mike_ ," Luke hissed, his cornflower blue eyes wide. The King's jaw was set and his pale complexion was faintly grey. He gave Luke's small hand a comforting squeeze, rubbing his thumb over the iron of the dragon-forged ring.

"I know," Michael whispered and Luke's heart felt like it stopped beating for a few moments before it restarted, jerky and panicked at the adrenaline coursing through him.

They broke out of the treeline at a fast pace that was _almost_ a run but, for just a moment as the vast sapphire blue of the ocean opened up in front of them, Luke's worries trickled away like raindrops when he heard the soft crash of waves battering against rock.

"I'm going to look after you," Michael said quietly but his voice was almost lost over the thundering roar of the hungry waves far below. The ocean was churning and furious, more grey than blue now as the last of the evening sun was hidden behind quickly-forming rain clouds.

Luke looked over at his husband, smiled gently - just a little twitch of his lips - before he closed the gap between them and thanked him with the soft crush of their lips.

Luke lost himself in the warmth of Michael's mouth, felt the King relaxing as his hand left his sword handle and drifted to cup Luke's cool cheek as the waves rolled closer.

The sound was soothing, reminded Luke of childhood and his mother's gentle singing in the years before all of the happiness left her.

He no longer felt as though he was being watched. The outcrop they were standing on felt safe, despite the crumbling rocks and the severed tree trunk nearby that hinted at unbearable pain, like lightning had struck the ground there once.

They parted slowly and Luke's love for Michael made him dizzy.

Lightning never struck the same place twice.

" _Get down_!" Luke choked out and then everything seemed to blur before, suddenly, there was earth beneath his hands and grass in his mouth and Michael's body covering his own protectively as they lay motionless behind the splintered tree trunk.

An arrow was buried in a tree just behind them, still thrumming. The fletching was the colour of amber, confirming that it came from Calum's Kingdom Victoria, and it had passed so close that it had almost embedded itself in Michael's shoulder.

Luke's stomach churned with nausea as he met Michael's emerald gaze, saw the anguish and anger directed inwards that flushed his pale face a blotchy red.

There were more arrows flying now, striking the ground around them and embedding themselves in the broken tree trunk the pair where sheltering behind.

Michael was mouthing something silently, making a tiny gesture with his hand, like he was trying to make Luke understand that he'd thought of a way out of this. The Prince couldn't see it though. Michael had his sword but he was no match against however many soldiers there were, and Luke could do nothing while the ring was still leeching his magic from him and burning into his pale skin.

The rain clouds tore apart overhead and lighting flickered through the sky. There was wind now too, dragging the arrows off course, and Luke was almost expecting it when the first soldier appeared on the outcrop too, wielding a sword and watching the pair with an animalistic anger that hinted at a hunger for glory.

Michael rose to meet him, dragging his own weapon free and raising it just in time to parry the blow. Sparks flew as their blades met and the clang set Luke's teeth on edge, made him shudder and swallow reflexively as bile rose in his throat.

The soldier fell when Michael's sword sliced through his throat but another replaced him, more skilled than the first and angry now that he had to fight over his dying comrade too.

Luke hated it. He wanted them to stop, wanted to throw all of their swords into the ocean and scream at them until his voice was hoarse because he could feel the pain of the tree nymph after an arrow had been fired into her, could feel the agony of the man dying on the ground and the sudden shocked flare of pain that burnt through Michael when a blade caught his leg.

" _No_ ," Luke breathed in horror, too quiet to be heard.

Three more soldiers appeared, slashing and fighting desperately as the muddy ground became slippery and the flash of the lightning was blinding and -

And Michael fell back, weakened as the soldiers poured out of the trees now. He couldn't fight all of them.

Luke ran to meet him.

"The ring!" Luke cried, ducking a strike and grabbing Michael's hand, hauling him away as a lunging soldier with an outstretched sword missed him by a hairbreadth. "Take the ring off! I can protect us!"

Michael's bloodstained expression was a mixture of pain and fear and determination but it became resigned as he slipped the dragon-forged metal easily from Luke's finger, stowing it in his pocket.

The Fae Prince fell to his knees.

He was so overcome that everything seemed to fade to shadows, to bright points of light that were Michael's beating heart and the frightened love in his eyes. Luke's magic flooded through him, burning away the darkness and setting him on fire almost with the intensity.

It stole his breath from his lungs, made his eyes burn with tears that boiled down his cheeks as he flung his hand out at the soldiers. Energy crackled from Luke's palm - like that day in the woods with Ashton - but this time the Humans weren't fast enough to move out of the way.

They died horribly and Luke had dreamt of killing Humans when he'd first been brought here against his will but it was awful now, the reality punching the breath out of him like he was being beaten. He watched the light leave their eyes, saw the awful realisation in Michael's eyes as he finally understood the warnings Andrew had given him about his son.

Luke's fear choked him and he turned away from the dead - away from _Michael_ \- and he missed the relief in his husband's gaze as Luke straightened up, allowing his old strength to flood through him once more.

Luke missed the love.

The enemy soldiers were lying dead on the ground around them but Luke's fear was panic now and, almost instinctively, he fled, leaving Michael hiding crumpled behind the broken tree trunk that Luke _should_ have healed as his heart seared in his chest.

Luke was halfway to the Realm before he realised what he was doing and stopped. He didn't want to see his father, didn't want to see Ashton or his brothers or the Citadel.

It was dark now as Luke stood there with indecision clear on his face and, although Luke didn't continue on to the Realm of Faerie, he also didn't go back.

His heart was torn inside him.

Luke fought to ignore the pain and the ache of losing Michael now, tried to focus on being held against his will instead... but it _hurt_ to ignore his love when it was scalding him. It was a real pain in his chest that was burning hotter than the ring _ever_ had, hotter than the ring that had left a scar on Luke's finger that would never fade because it was Faerie magic... like the scarred King's face almost... a permanent reminder.

Luke walked to the ocean, both uncaring and more agonised than he had ever felt before because his magic might be free now but it was _smothering_ him and, after so long without it, Luke almost didn't want it back anymore.

He reached the sea eventually, recognised the cove and the rocks and the shape of the beach. It was where he had lost his mother. He could even see the cliff she had flung herself from, the hungry waves as they smashed against the sharp rocks, louder than the thunder rumbling overhead.

It helped Luke think.

The crashing of the waves calmed his frayed nerves and his magic thrummed through his veins like a contented bumblebee, deceptively innocent and calm, like the Prince _hadn't_  just killed people.

He hung his head as the storm churned the dark clouds overhead and the tears spilt down his cheeks like summer rain.

Luke wanted Michael back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you thought :)


	4. Wildfire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this has taken a little while and that it's only one part but I wrote it all this evening and I'm so excited to write the rest of the story so I just wanted to upload this!  
> I hope you'll all enjoy it! :)

**_I'll lay low and someday I'll let you go._ **

 

Michael was bereft.

Luke had been gone for almost a month now but the last memory Michael had of him had burnt itself into his consciousness until he knew it would never _really_ fade away.

Michael’s sleep was broken every night with the images flashing through his mind like forked lightning: the feeling of being watched, Luke’s lips against his own, the arrow, the panic, the ring, the blood and the sparks flying and the clangs of the swords echoing through the night as a storm rumbled overhead… and the burning of _something_ fiery in Luke’s eyes as he spun and fled, leaving Michael surrounded with the dead.

Luke had never looked more inhuman than he did then and Michael wished he didn’t love the missing Prince so much that it ached. Michael tried to distract himself with negotiations and overseeing the training of his men but, when that didn’t work, he tried to think of the _negative_ aspects of Luke instead, tried to distract himself with the brutal surge of energy that crackled from Luke’s outstretched palms and _not_ the pained softness in his gaze as he saved the King’s life.

Michael found it impossible to destroy the love for the Prince blazing in his chest. It ate away at him, burning the King from the inside out like dragon fire or Faerie magic. It made his burns throb with a phantom pain that mirrored the searing pain in his heart.

Michael found it impossible to concentrate anymore.

The war was upon them now, crashing down like a tsunami and tearing away everything that the King had once held dear.

He had accompanied his vast battalion of soldiers out onto the Golden Plains that stretched between his kingdom and Calum’s. The damp ground where the opposing armies battled was slippery with blood and rain, the grass churned to thick mud as the orange-streaked sky shone like burnished copper in the sunlight.

The Faeries were yet to join Michael’s soldiers out on the Plains but they had sworn they would reach him within the next turn of the moon, in time for the Final Battle. Sydney was still winning, battling valiantly as Calum’s army crumpled beneath Michael’s vast number like ribbons in a strong breeze, torn and flung into the ether like ghosts.

The soldiers were only as confident as their King though, only as loyal and brave and hopeful.

Their spirits darkened when they received news that the Final Battle was fast approaching - reports of last-ditch enforcements coming to Calum’s aid passed through Michael’s camps like wildfire - but the King gave no rousing speech of encouragement.

The tide began to turn in the weeks following this and Luke had still failed to return.

The King’s wedding ring felt so heavy on his finger, like it was dragging the Human down into the earth… into an early grave almost.

Michael’s strength deserted him and his heart grew weak.

Michael wondered if he would ever see his husband again.

He wanted Luke.

He _needed_ him.

Michael tried to imagine what would happen if he left one of his Captains in charge and went in search of Luke sometimes, on nights when sleep refused to reach him or his breath grew tight in his chest when the faint clang of weapons striking reached him as he sat huddled in his tent, more alone than he could ever remember feeling.

The situation came to a head late one night, on the eve of the Final Battle.

The Fae had set up their own camps in the woodland edging the eastern side of the Golden Plains, tucked into a curve in the river as it meandered gently through the sparse trees and long, gently swaying grass, like a golden ocean with its strands dried from the scorching sunlight.

The clouds above Michael’s tent were the colour of amethyst as they roiled in the amber sky and a single bird wheeled across the vast emptiness, a stark streak of black among the fading embers of the violent evening.

Night approached quickly as the sounds of battle gradually faded, and Michael’s face was drawn and pale as the wounded soldiers began to file back into the camp. Barely any seemed to have escaped the fighting unscathed; their haunted faces were smeared with blood - perhaps theirs, perhaps not - and they carried their injured comrades.

Michael wanted to look away when he saw the dead being carried in but he knew he owed it to his people to be stronger than that. He needed to rule with an iron fist like his father had done, needed to show that he was still capable despite everything that had happened to him but… but he couldn’t.

Not without Luke.

Michael wanted the Faerie Prince back so much that it hurt to _breathe_.

The King of the Faeries seemed to see it in the Human’s face when he finally deigned to reward Michael with his presence.

Michael had just visited the Medical Tents on the far side of the camp, closest to the river where clean water was available. The war had not yet been going on long enough that the river was polluted and Michael was grateful for that fact. Everything would be far worse when they began to run out of water to drink.

Then the soldiers would begin to panic and he would have to drag himself from the chaos whirling inside his head, and he would have to convince them that this war was worth it, that them _dying_ was worth it… that the cause was worth their sacrifice.

On particularly bad nights, Michael couldn’t even recall what their cause _was_.

The King was sure Calum was doing what he thought was best for his people, just like _Michael_ was.

The Human wondered what would have happened if the pair of them had never been separated as children. He wondered if he would still have met Luke, if Calum would have gone on to rule Victoria… if they would have started a war against each other.

It made Michael feel sick.

“You are dwelling on things you have no power over, Human.”

King Andrew’s voice was stiff and cold, as dry as the brittle grass as he came to a stop in front of Michael’s tent. The Human turned to face him wearily, motioned at his clearly-bristling Guards to leave him for a moment so that he might have a moment of privacy with the father of his husband.

“Your Majesty,” Michael greeted him quietly, all the while wondering why the Fae refused to respect him enough to call him his title. Michael found he didn’t mind as much as he perhaps _should_ have though. He didn’t feel as though he deserved it these days. “I was just thinking about Luke.”

The sky overhead was darker now, the lilac clouds stretching to mask the orange, hiding it from sight. The Faerie sniffed contemptuously at the Human’s words and Michael’s heart hurt.

“You would do well to _stop_ ,” Andrew said in a bored tone. “There are more pressing matters to be dealt with. My son can be captured once this is all over.”

“ _Excuse_ me?!” Michael asked sharply and his voice was as cold as ice now. “That’s my _husband_ you’re referring to! You’ve done more than enough to him! You will not _touch_ him!”

“This would not have happened if you had forced him to keep the ring on!” Andrew argued and his voice rose to a shout that was only _just_ low enough that passing soldiers were unable to hear. “And besides, he is my _son_ and I will do with him as I please!”

“He is a subject of Sydney now and, as the King and Luke’s _husband_ , I am _telling_ you that you have no right! You will not hurt him! You will do no such thing!”

“ _Control yourself_ ,” Andrew spat and Michael fell silent so abruptly that he wondered for a moment if the Faerie had used magic to bend his will. In a tone that was only slightly more controlled, the older continued.

“You should watch your tongue, _Human_!” Andrew said in a voice of forced calm and his tone was so venomous that it made Michael shudder, reminded him of the early days, of his first meeting with Luke, back in the room with the paralysis spell and the fireball flickering in the dark room. Michael remembered the fear and the panic saturating the air. He remembered the _horror_ -

And he bit his tongue.

He couldn’t jeopardise his relationship with the Faeries now. He needed them on his side if his soldiers were going to survive this war, if they were going to win the Final Battle… if they were going to make it home again.

“That’s better,” Andrew said but he looked exhausted now, glancing towards Michael with what could _almost_ be described as guilt, like he had said something he regretted. “You would be foolish to search for him now, Human.”

Michael looked up at Andrew, flinching at the familiar blue eyes. Andrew’s were icy where Luke’s were wam though and Michael found no comfort in them.

“He will kill you all,” Andrew added and Michael felt uneasy as the hairs on the back of his neck rose at such a prejudiced assumption.

“I’m not so sure of that,” the Human said quietly, running a hand down his burnt face and closing his eyes as the exhaustion of the last few months finally threatened to catch up with him. Michael swayed on his feet and the faintest hint of concern buried itself in Andrew’s eyes.

“You think you know my own son better than me?”

Michael sighed softly. This was the conversation the pair of them should have been having all along.

“Perhaps.” The Human was tired and sad and empty, and perhaps it showed on his face because the Faerie looked wrong-footed in the face of Michael’s obvious burnout.

“He is my husband,” Michael repeated and Andrew’s brow creased. Almost a year ago in that dark room with his son frozen on the bed between them, the Human King knew Andrew had never foreseen this outcome, had never imagined that the pair would actually fall in _love_.

Neither had Michael.

Andrew left quickly, murmured that the Human should get some rest because it would be wise to “lay down before he fell”. Michael agreed. It would be bad for morale if his soldiers saw him crumple down onto the muddy bloodstained ground now, heartbroken and aching.

He disappeared into the safety of his tent, let the ruby-red flaps roll shut and block out the chaos of the camp. He could still hear the soldiers’ groans of pain and their strained, apprehensive voices as they prepared for the next day, dim now but still audible despite the numerous layers of canvas separating them.

The King got barely any sleep that night as he lay stiffly on his narrow bed, restless and frightened between his coarse blankets. Everyone said he was young to be a King and Michael believed them now. He felt _too_ young, far out of his depth as the waves threatened to crash over him and his childhood best friend gazed across the bloody ground at him with blood on his face.

It was terrifying to think that the Final Battle would take place the next day now but, with the Faeries by his side, Michael knew that they would almost certainly win the war.

No matter how many enforcements Calum had called in, Humans had no chance against magic.

It seemed almost _cruel_ to have such an advantage over them - like Michael was _cheating_ almost - and it reminded Michael of the look on Calum’s face when the rivalry and animosity between them had begun to fester and grow, reminded him of the betrayal as Calum escaped in the night and Michael found himself at war with his childhood best friend just a few days later.

Michael thought about the burning in Luke’s eyes too, evident in the seconds before he had left him. Michael wondered if it was hatred or triumph or even _love_ , as unlikely as the latter seemed now.

Michael missed Luke.

He missed his sharp remarks and his soft smiles and the touch of his lips against the Human’s overheated skin. Michael missed the taste of Luke’s mouth and the delicate wetness against his fingertips as the Prince reacted to every touch his husband bestowed upon him. Michael missed Luke’s soft golden hair and his glitter-soft sapphire eyes and the cherry-blossom pink of his gently-curving lips as they tugged up into the most beautiful smile Michael had ever been lucky enough to see.

Michael missed his husband so much that it burnt his heart in his chest, cauterising and agonising and **real** , like his love for Luke as it flamed and curled around his heart.

When Michael remembered that Luke was still gone though, probably far away now and still running from him, he felt almost as though his heart stopped beating. His pulse seemed to slow and the deafening roar of blood in his ears that had been present up until that moment seemed to fade.

Michael sat up on the bed and dropped his head into his hands as the bitter tears in his eyes welled up, blurring his vision and dripping down his burnt face like shards of crystal. His could feel his already-fractured heart breaking into pieces as the fight left him.

He pictured Luke crying rivers as he staggered through the countryside, imagined him crooning to trees as they grew new buds and blooms. He could almost see Luke crumpling down to his knees, imagined him flinging his hands up into the sky and sending out bolts of blistering energy like lightning.

Michael’s wedding ring felt heavier still the next morning when he cracked open his painfully-dry eyes and stared numbly at the canvas flaps of his tent as the clanking of men in metal plate passing by sounded outside.

An attendant stepped in to help Michael into his armour and his breath rasped in his throat when the war horns began to blare as the rising sun outside painted the sky a vivid blood-red.

The men were preparing for battle and the attendant’s hands were shaking as she helped Michael struggle into his armour and, despite _knowing_ that he should be focusing on strategy and the upcoming battle, none of it mattered to him really.

All Michael could think of was Luke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sorry about all this angst, guys, but I hope you enjoyed reading it!  
> Please let me know what you think!  
> I'll try to be quicker with writing the next part - everything's kind of hitting the fan now...  
> Good luck...


	5. The Stars In The Sky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is basically just horrible. Trigger warning for blood/gore or whatever. I mean, it's not _that_ bad (by my standards?) but I don't want to upset anyone so please be careful.  
>  I hope you'll enjoy this though!  
> I mean... good luck too... Like I planned out level 10 angst but this came out like level 50 so I'm really sorry in advance.  
> Um... yeah.... anyway...  
> *hides*

**_Someday I'll let you go._ **

 

Luke whiled away that month by the coast, sticking to the deserted stretches of shoreline and wading through the cold saltwater as it lapped around his knees.

His piercing blue eyes burnt with tears and his love festered in his heart, weighing him down like a rock as he fought to ignore the precise emerald green of Michael’s irises or the way they sparkled when he smiled, focusing instead on how the water that was the Faerie Queen’s final resting place made him feel close to her.

Luke’s newly-unleashed magic roared through his veins like a waterfall, thundering and scalding and utterly deafening. If it had been dangerously powerful before it had been locked away, it was downright _lethal_ now, crackling from Luke’s skin at the slightest provocation, like _lightning_ almost.

Blue, _blue_ lightning.

Ashton barely crossed Luke’s mind anymore. Neither did his father or brothers.

Luke’s thoughts remained wrapped around his husband and his mother, the two people he loved more than anyone else in all of Paelar.

The Prince had grieved at first, crumpling in the water so that the ocean crept up to his neck. He’d wished for death, wished to join his mother in the sea’s watery depths… had wished for _Michael_ before he remembered the state he had left the Human in on the rocky outcrop when Luke had fled.

The Faerie didn’t feel as though he was allowed to want Michael anymore but his wedding ring gleamed on his finger just the same, a solemn reminder of everything Luke had lost when he’d deserted Michael in his hour of need.

The intense fighting leading up to the Final Battle on the Golden Plains would already have begun by now and, standing in the cool water as the twilight darkened the skies to a murky reddish-purple, Luke wondered if it was too late to make amends.

Abruptly, he remembered that night in bed with Michael, lying tangled together as he listened in pained silence to the origin of the Human’s burns. Luke remembered how his lips brushed Michael’s forehead gently, remembered how the King squeezed his eyes shut tightly as Luke held him close.

“ _I will do everything in my power to make you as happy as you can be_ ,” Michael had whispered, his voice faint and scared and lonely. The Prince remembered the softness of Michael’s skin against his fingertips as he answered: “ _I won’t hide from you_ ” -

And Luke made his decision.

It wasn’t too late.

While his life remained and his heart ached with love, it wasn’t too late.

It would _never_ be.

Luke stopped at the rocky outcrop deep in the forests on the outskirts of Paelar and healed the splintered tree. The arrow that had remained buried in its broken trunk turned to flower petals that were carried away on the wind. Luke’s voice was lilting and soft as he laid his palm gently on the trunk. For the first time in a month, his wild magic calmed.

Luke followed the singing in his blood that mirrored the war horns echoing on the breeze, searching for Michael.

 

**_Someday I'll let you go._ **

 

The crows were already circling in the air overhead, sweeping down to peck at the carrion before startling away again as the fighters came nearer. The sky was a caliginous mess of orange and yellow, and the muddy ground was slippery with blood as Michael staggered through the carnage.

His sword was heavy in his hand and the roars of the fighters around him were ringing in his ears as he stumbled over the broken body of one of Calum’s soldiers. So much magic was being cast that the scent of ozone hung heavily in the air and Michael’s head was pounding with it.

There was a lull in the fighting - and in truth, there _always_ seemed to be because no opposing soldiers ever got _close_ to Michael - and he faltered, lowering his shield for a moment as he tried to work out why an unnatural hush had fallen.

Energy crackled down from the bank of trees that edged the Golden Plains, catching one of Calum’s soldiers in the chest and sending him spiralling through the air to land broken in the dust.

Michael’s breath caught in his throat because… because the blast of energy had been powerful and precise and… and _blue_...

Like Luke’s eyes.

The Faeries began to attack with renewed vigour, like the mysterious fighter had strengthened them with their powerful display of magic.

A grunt of exertion sounded nearby and Michael jerked his head up, twisting away and defending himself with an easy swipe of his sword as a soldier came unexpectedly towards him.

The man looked young in the dying light, probably no more than sixteen or seventeen. His lip was twisted back in a snarl that revealed his bloodstained teeth as he fought valiantly, desperately… uselessly...

The point of King Andrew’s spear emerged through the young soldier’s chest and the Fae smiled a smile that was all teeth as Michael’s mouth fell open in shock. The Faerie King disappeared back into the midst of battle but his expression remained troubled.

The blasts of energy rocking the Golden Plains had stopped now but Michael suddenly found himself feeling inexplicably safer - suddenly there was a visible space around him that no one seemed brave enough to enter.

Any who dared were felled in seconds with arrows or bursts of magic that seemed to come from nowhere at all.

Several times, Michael thought he glimpsed a flash of blond hair as a tall, pale Fae weaved through the battling armies and, as this happened more and more frequently, Michael began to fear that he was going insane, spying Luke where he very clearly _wasn’t_.

The Faeries fell back beneath a last-ditch attempt led by Calum but they regrouped near the river, utilising the precious few seconds they had spare to heal their injuries and prepare further.

When they swarmed back into the battle, Ashton was leading them, his face hard and as cold as ice as he roared orders. Calum’s soldiers retreated beneath the onslaught and their defenses buckled beneath the combined weight of Michael’s fighters and the Faeries. Calum’s army seemed to shake themselves free of their daze but their hesitation proved fatal. The soldiers from Victoria lashed out in their desperation and Michael watched as Calum’s army was forced to its knees.

The ensuing slaughter was horrifying to watch but Michael found himself transfixed, unable to look away.

The Final Battle - fought by armies fuelled with desperation and a desire to survive another day - had proved to be so bloodthirsty that Michael knew he would be haunted by it forever.

A spear flew close overhead and Michael flinging himself aside proved unnecessary. The weapon seemed to swerve at the last moment, embedding itself firmly in the ground where it quivered nearby and Michael looked up in fright and -

“ _Luke_?!”

The Human’s voice was soft and shaken as he staggered to his feet, weak and paler than usual, frightened because all of his fighting prowess seemed to have deserted him in the face of a real battle…

And he’d just glimpsed his husband through the soldiers, as clear as day and as beautiful as the sunlight painting the skies the colour of embers.

Luke’s golden hair reflected the dying light as he spun away but, before Michael could do much more than hope and wonder and _stare_ at his husband’s retreating back - at his husband who he had never even expected to _see_ again - Michael’s attention was gripped as he lunged to parry a sword swipe, forcing himself to focus as the battle raged on.

Michael tried not to think about his burning love for Luke as enemies crumpled beneath his blade.

The King failed and, perhaps most frightening of all, he couldn’t even find it in himself to be _ashamed_ anymore.

Michael needed him too much.

He always _would_.

 

**_Paint me black, cover me up again._ **

 

Luke’s feet sank into the blood-logged mud as he cast enchantment after enchantment, fighting to protect himself and his kin and most of all Michael.

Luke’s magic had caused quite a stir when he’d finally reached the Golden Plains. Everyone had frozen like the blue fire was something unknown and, to the majority of them, Luke supposed it probably was.

Only Luke’s family and close friends - and here he barely even had to concentrate on not thinking about Ashton because Luke’s love for Michael crushed everything else to dust - had ever seen it and Calum’s soldiers had fled in terror.

Luke tried not to kill them whenever possible, instead opting for rendering his victims unconscious because at least they stood a fighting chance of survival once this was all over. After the soldiers Luke had killed on the outcrop in the forest, he didn’t think his heart could stand much more death and destruction at his hands.

Luke only killed when they threatened Michael.

Soon even that became unnecessary though.

The enemy fighters were being _crushed_ beneath the combined force of Michael and Luke’s father’s soldiers and, when King Calum raised the visor on his helmet and shouted out a plea for his soldiers to halt fighting, an unnatural stillness settled over the carnage.

“We surrender!”

The words were strong and clear, and Luke’s respect for the young King was not grudging. He knew Calum and Michael had been best friends once upon a time. Despite everything, as the Prince looked into Calum’s bloodstained face and saw the grim determination etched there, Luke knew he could trust him.

The same slightly awestruck expression was evident on Michael’s face too when he removed his helmet, letting it fall onto the muddy floor through limp fingers.

Calum’s chocolate brown eyes settled on Michael’s and, buried beneath the pain of war, the black-haired man could still see the familiar sparkle in the other King’s chocolate brown eyes as he held his gaze.

It reminded Michael of when they were children.

He opened his mouth to accept Calum’s surrender with as much grace as he could when his jaw snapped shut as the colour drained from his already-pale face.

Ashton had appeared behind Calum, godlike almost as he swept a spear up gracefully from the bloody ground and raised it, aiming.

“Mike?” Calum’s full lips formed the words almost silently but Michael was shaking his head numbly as his trembling fingers tightened around the hilt of his sword. Luke took an unsteady lurching step forwards and, for the first time, Michael’s soldiers began to notice the Prince and stared at him in shock.

Ashton’s jaw was set but his eyes were hard and cold and, gazing at him, Luke felt as though he was looking at a stranger. It was alien and frightening, and Luke could see in the Captain of the Guards’ face what he was about to do.

The Prince’s scream was ragged as he cried out desperately: “No, Ashton! _No_!”

Luke began to run, shouldering past Michael and Calum’s soldiers alike as Ashton threw the spear through the still air and Luke’s heart-wrenching terror at being too late drove him faster, gave him wings so that it seemed like the ground was falling away beneath his feet. Luke’s old strength flooded through him like adrenaline and, as he hurtled through the mud, Luke’s eyes locked with Michael’s.

A black crow cawed in the silence and Luke’s pale skin was ashen - like fallen snow or sea foam or the white of Michael’s loving smile - and the Prince’s heart seemed to shudder in his chest as he flung himself at the enemy king, meaning to push him aside.

Time seemed to slow down.

Calum staggered to the right and, almost instinctively, Michael’s hand shot out to steady him. They touched for the first time in a decade and the sun broke through the clouds overhead.

Ashton’s mouth fell open in horror as the spear encountered flesh, tearing through and burying itself deep, like the lightning-struck tree in the forest.

Michael’s face twisted with horrified agony and Luke felt pain when he saw that, hated that a Human as beautiful and pure as Michael could ever wear an expression such as that and -

Luke’s breath caught, lodged somewhere deep as he looked down jerkily and saw the spear buried in his chest. The carved wood had splintered inside him, puncturing his lungs as they slowly began to fill with blood, _drowning_ him.

Dimly, Luke felt the way the tree had died, sliced down before its time with the bite of an axe the last thing the nymph inside felt.

The silence on the Golden Plains was deafening, a dull roar in Luke’s ears that mirrored the pounding of his heart as it pumped his blood out onto the muddy ground.

Luke’s knees met the dirt and his cheek was pressed to the ground and his eyes were fluttering shut as the agony inside him flared up like a forest fire on a summer day.

Calum shouted at his soldiers to stay back because the Prince of the Faeries had _saved_ him, even as Luke’s brothers appeared from nowhere, stony-faced as they wrenched Ashton away from where he stood frozen, staring in horrified shock. Andrew lingered nearby, torn and dazed, and Calum stared at Luke with a mixture of gratitude and horror as the soldiers from all three armies formed a loose circle around them.

Michael was crying.

His hands shook as he fell into the dirt beside Luke but they were so, _so_ gentle as he carefully cupped the Prince’s face, stroking his thumbs over the bruise-like circles beneath the Fae’s glazed blue eyes.

Luke’s pale lips twitched faintly when Michael’s heartbroken face filtered through his swimming vision and a drop of blood trickled from the corner of his mouth, sliding down his alabaster skin to join the rest in the dirt.

No one was even _thinking_ about fighting now.

All of the soldiers were staring in chagrined silence as Michael sobbed over Luke’s limp body. Calum’s hand was shaking as he gripped his oldest friend’s shoulder for support and Michael’s tears shuddered out of him because they might have become enemies but they were friends first…

The very opposite of his relationship with Luke.

Fresh tears boiled over and Michael tightened his fists weakly in the torn, blood-stained forest green of Luke’s ruined tunic, and the gentle tugging sensation startled Luke enough that his eyes fluttered open weakly, even as the light in them faded.

Andrew was kneeling down in the dirt beside the three of them now, reaching out towards his youngest son as though he meant to heal him. Luke’s magic was chaotic in his veins but he used the last of his strength to fight against every instinct in him that wanted him to heal himself.

He didn’t deserve it.

Not after everything he’d done.

Not after all of the agony he’d put Michael through.

Andrew’s palm began to shine with magic and a tear rolled down Luke’s cheek.

“ _No_ -” He couldn’t speak properly but it didn’t really matter. His intentions were clear. He was not to be healed by anyone.

“Luke, _please_!” Michael sobbed out desperately but Luke couldn’t stand it.

Ashton’s face was just visible through a gap in the crowd - dangerous and strange, an unknown predator almost - and the nausea unfurling in Luke’s churning stomach tripled when he realised that he must have looked like that once.

Luke’s heart had been racing erratically on his sprint across the Golden Plains but even that was beginning to slow now.

The crow circled in the air overhead.

Luke’s vision dimmed.

The stars that usually resided in the Prince’s eyes had fallen into his throat and he began to choke on them as the blood flooding his lungs thickened. The light in his face faded and the blood flowing from his body was boiling. His bones felt fragile and he shivered violently as though he was freezing cold, and it felt like the sun was sinking and casting the world into shade.

The stars in the sky were pouring from Luke’s ruined chest like rubies now as Michael gazed down at Luke with agonising, searing **love** , and this was what Luke got for opening up to a Human… for falling in love with Michael…

Luke wouldn’t change it for a moment.

“ _I love you_.”

The words came out choked and thick, breathless and strangled as a wave of agony crashed over Luke and his heart gave a weak thump in his chest.

“I love you too, snowflake.”

Michael’s words were as calm as storm clouds seconds before they tore open, sending icy rain cascading down to the cracked earth below like knives.

The sobbing King’s hand carded gently through Luke’s blond hair and Michael’s cherry-red, bitten-raw lips were soft as they dragged lightly against Luke’s forehead.

The world grew dark and thunder began to rumble in the flaming sky.

As Luke’s blood pooled out on the scorched ground, a flower grew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took me so long to update - my sciatica is like crazy bad at the moment and sitting down to write is just not really an option when it feels like this but I wanted to push through it so I could get this story uploaded.  
> Please let me know what you thought if you don't hate me too much.  
> I love you guys a lot. Thank you for reading <3


	6. Burning Up

**_I won't hide from you._ **

 

The summer air was warm and damp, humid as the stormclouds churned darkly overhead and the thunder rumbled ominously. The breeze blowing across the parched, blood-sodden ground whistled through the scorched grass of the Golden Plains, a whisper of wind that was the only sound to be heard.

The crushing silence was broken only by the gentle rasp of Michael’s breath as he bent over Luke’s limp body. The Fae’s sky blue eyes were vacant now, the lavender eyelids soft against the Human’s fingers when Michael shakily closed his husband’s eyes. Luke’s golden hair fluttered gently in the light breeze rippling the scorched grass and Michael’s tears streamed down his flushed cheeks relentlessly.

Luke’s skin was cooler than usual, pale as pearls and cold as snow. His lips were pink rose petals, parted gently with the gasp that had escaped him as the pain had finally overwhelmed him. Michael purposefully kept his gaze fixed above Luke’s shoulders in an effort not to look at all of the _blood_ but it was so hard when drops of it were collecting in the corner of Luke’s mouth and speckling his chin.

He was still so beautiful.

Michael had never met _anyone_ as beautiful as Luke.

His emerald eyes were wet with tears as he took in every imperfection on Luke’s face - the slightly uneven line of his Cupid’s bow, the faint creases beginning to form around his eyes, the eyelashes still spiky with tears - and Michael’s heart broke because he adored every single one of them.

The Human’s hand was trembling harder as he took the Prince’s hand gently in his own, entwining their fingers as Luke’s wedding ring clinked against his.

Andrew sank down onto his knees beside them, his expression more stunned than Michael had ever seen.

A tiny part of the Human wanted to snap at the King of the Faeries, wanted to swear at him to leave because he had imprisoned Luke in the first place and perhaps if that hadn’t happened then nothing else that followed would have either.

Michael bit his tongue though.

After everything that had happened, he had grown.

He had lost a husband but Andrew had lost a son and -

Michael remembered Luke’s harsh words that day in the Palace, remembered him hissing that Andrew wasn’t allowed to call him his son anymore after his treatment and… and Michael felt his face ice over, even as the agony searing in his heart reached new heights when his gaze settled on Luke’s vacant face.

“Get away from him,” Michael breathed, his voice soft and calm and dangerous. Calum’s hand tightened on Michael’s shoulder lightly - the Human jumped because, in the torment of the last few minutes, he’d almost forgotten his oldest friend was even still _present_ \- and Andrew looked up at Michael with fire burning dully in his eyes.

“This is like losing Liz all over again,” Andrew breathed and Michael could have asked for confirmation of who Liz was, if this was the Queen who had killed herself but… but none of it mattered anymore.

All that was significant was Luke’s cold body and Michael’s aching heart and Calum’s fingers biting into the thick muscle of Michael’s broad shoulder, grounding and anchoring and _safe_ in the way only Calum had ever known how.

“ _What the_...?” Calum’s words were soft and stunned. He still had a slight lisp, like he had done back when they were just kids. That made Michael’s heart hurt too. It made him feel young and vulnerable, incapable of dealing with a loss of this magnitude and -

The impossible happened.

Luke’s skin began to glow very faintly blue.

The pool of blood around Luke’s still body stopped spreading. The crows stopped circling overhead and the armies seemed to watch with bated breath. Michael’s heart shuddered in his chest.

“What’s happening?” he breathed without expecting an answer. Finally Michael let his eyes slide down to Luke’s chest.

The sight of the spear buried in Luke’s chest made Michael’s breath catch in his throat again but not for the same reasons as earlier because… because it was _vibrating_ almost, so fast that it blurred before Michael’s eyes, like it wasn’t quite… _there_.

Drops of blood were gliding back into Luke’s body, sliding across his snowy skin gracefully like rubies as the glow of his body shone brighter, so fierce that those watching had to shield their eyes.

When Michael finally risked glancing up through his eyelashes, his heart rose into his throat because the spear that had been cutting through Luke was turning into flower petals that were being carried away on the breeze and -

None of this made any _sense_.

Michael’s palms were no longer slick with blood and Luke was glowing so brightly that he was hidden from sight now and the sky felt like it was spinning overhead. Calum’s hand was the only thing keeping Michael upright. The King's breath was escaping him in panicked gasps and the blood-red petals were scattering on the wind.

“Please, what’s _happening_?!” Michael repeated desperately but Andrew simply shook his head in what _might_ have been disbelief. His expression was tight and strained, calculating almost as he took in the fading blue glow of his youngest son’s skin.

“He’s healing himself,” the Faerie King said quietly, bowing his head for a moment as the blue light enveloping his son flared brighter. “He’s draining his magic to fix his body. It is an instinctive action and he will not keep any magic after this but… I never expected...” Andrew shook his head slowly, catching Michael’s dazed gaze and holding it for a moment, mirroring the Human’s pain and confusion. “He must feel very comfortable here, to want to stay here with you as a mortal… as a _Human_.”

Michael’s heart felt like it was no longer beating in his chest but he had his wits about him enough to tighten his grip on Luke’s hand, squeezing gently and jolting in shock when he felt the faintest hint of _warmth_.

“I can hardly believe it,” Michael whispered and he didn’t sound choked with tears anymore but his head was spinning and he felt almost on the brink of passing out. The events of the day had been traumatic and he half wondered if he was _dreaming_ this… if perhaps it was still that morning and the Final Battle hadn’t yet begun… if perhaps none of this had ever really happened at all and -

Luke’s cornflower blue eyes fluttered open and everything else fell away like water.

Michael leant in close, desperate to be the first thing his husband saw after - god, after he’d _died_.

The Human’s eyes began to overflow with tears again but, somehow, his voice remained steady.

“Luke,” Michael whispered, stroking Luke’s cheeks gently with the pads of his thumbs and marvelling at the rosy undertone that had never been present before. “Snowflake, please don’t cry. You’re okay. You’re safe now. Everything will be fine.”

The tear in Luke’s forest-green tunic revealed pale skin, blood-red petals and a curious scar, very similar to the rose blooming on Michael’s burnt face. Luke’s hair was golden stardust but something in his bloodshot, tear-filled eyes looked different as the blue glow finally faded entirely into the ether.

It was like a light in Luke’s eyes had gone out, like burning up all of his magic and becoming _Human_ had stolen some of the brightness. They still sparkled though and Luke’s trembling fingers were iron-tight around Michael’s as he drew in a raspy breath, gasping out a sob when he seemed to remember what had happened.

Calum rose shakily and Andrew stepped back too, pausing only in his slow retreat when his son’s stunned eyes flickered to his face.

A silence grew between them, full of thorns and ice. Michael shivered.

“I asked you _not_ to heal me…” the Prince whispered at last and Andrew’s expression became indecipherable.

“You healed yourself.”

Luke’s hands began to tremble like delicate leaves in the wind, torn from the tree and free-falling into space and, from the sudden momentary despair and what could almost be described as _relief_ in his exhausted eyes, Michael knew Luke was realising the weight of his sacrifice.

The King wanted to help him but he didn’t know what he could _do_.

The only comfort he could offer was the gentle brush of his fingertips against Luke’s cheeks and it made the Prince shut his eyes tightly at the touch as the tears boiled over, sliding down his warm cheeks like they were racing each other.

Luke’s blue eyes still looked different when he opened them a few moments later and they weren’t like the ocean or the sky anymore. They were like a river instead, and Michael had read once that a still river often ran deep and he thought that was very true now.

It seemed to sum Luke up perfectly.

“Snowflake,” Michael whispered and the spell that had settled over Luke seemed to break.

He jerked as though in shock, finally managing to focus his gaze on the black-haired man kneeling in the thick mud beside him. There was blood caked under Luke’s fingernails when he cupped Michael’s cheek but the King couldn’t have cared less.

“I love you,” he whispered to Luke, ducking his head and brushing his lips chastely against Luke’s forehead. “So, so much. I’m so sorry I never told you before. I’m sorry it came to this. I’m sorry you got hurt. I’m sorry I couldn’t save you. I’m sorry you lost your magic. I’m -”

Luke’s lips brushed Michael’s so gently that he barely felt it but it was enough to make the older Human fall silent, chagrined as Luke fixed him with a soft look that mirrored the one he had worn on that very first night they’d met, shut up in a dark chamber with a fireball flickering gently in the corner of the room as Luke’s magic was locked away indefinitely...

And now Luke had _lost_ his magic… and he didn’t seem to care.

“ _Mikey_ ,” Luke breathed and even his voice sounded different now. A little lower, a little rougher… more _Human_. “I love you too… and you have _nothing_ to apologise for.” Luke’s words became a little steadier and he took a calming breath, the gentle rise and fall of his chest distracting Michael for a moment as the King felt relief welling up inside him once more.

“I’m _so_ glad you’re still here,” Michael choked out and, suddenly, he was fighting back tears again. Luke’s lips twitched faintly as his hand fell from Michael’s face, like his exhaustion was draining him now.

“I’m never leaving you again,” Luke whispered as his deep blue eyes slid shut.

Michael lifted Luke gently into his arms, rising clumsily - soaked with blood and mud and blades of burnt grass, and utterly uncaring - as he staggered across the Golden Plains towards the physician’s tent in his army’s camp, keen to get his husband checked over.

Soldiers from all three armies parted to let them through and Calum stayed lingering beside Andrew, relief clear on the tanned Human’s face as he wrapped his arms tightly around himself, huddling for warmth in the face of the tremendous grief settling over the field as he surveyed the dead.

Michael had eyes only for his husband.

The skies overhead were clearer now and the colour of yellow honeysuckle, and the thunder had long since stopped rumbling.

Luke was warm and soft and pliant and sleepy as he lay cuddled safely there in Michael’s arms.

The Human never wanted to let him go again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this wasn't really terrible... please let me know!  
> Anyway, as I say, the next update(s) will be epilogue-type things and should hopefully mainly be cute <3  
> If there's anything you'd like to know then please comment it but I already have some of your questions noted down so those will be answered!  
> Thank you for reading this far! :)


	7. Gentle Insistence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually finished this update the other day and I was going to try and wait to write a second part before uploading it but the words weren't coming so I figured I'd just upload this now!  
> Thank you Kori for helping with some of the ideas for this update - you're amazing! <3  
> I hope you'll like it :)

**_Paint me black, cover me up again._ **

 

The weeks following the Final Battle were long and arduous. Luke’s hands only ever stopped trembling when Michael laced their fingers together and the circles under Luke’s eyes darkened like bruises. He barely slept and he _never_ left the chambers he shared with his husband.

The scar on Luke’s chest was an intimidating crimson that formed a perfect circle, puckered and in shocking contrast to the snowy white of his newly-warm skin. Michael’s eyes swam with tears whenever he saw it.

Luke felt empty.

The Palace’s physician insisted that it was normal to feel that way after such a near brush with death but the King thought there was more to it than that because Luke might have cut all ties with Andrew and Ashton but he had still lost so much more than anyone else that day on the Golden Plains.

He’d been torn from his _species_ and his magic had been burnt away inside of him without his permission. He’d sacrificed himself for a Human he’d never met before and Michael’s gratitude was warring with more concern and _love_ than he’d ever felt before.

After quiet observation, Michael quickly realised that Luke seemed a lot calmer when he was busy, whether that was reading or drawing or even just snuggling up in Michael’s arms with his head tucked safely away so that he was hidden and, with that realisation in mind, Michael sent a Guard to retrieve something for him, something that he hoped would help heal the tear in Luke’s heart.

The lute was old and tarnished.

Luke’s pale fingers stopped shaking only when they were curled around the neck of the instrument and his fingertips danced across the strings as a soft melody filled the chamber he shared with Michael.

Luke had dismissed the instrument at first, perhaps unconsciously keen to remain wrapped in a fog of depression because it was something familiar but, at Michael’s gentle insistence, Luke had picked the instrument up and allowed his love of music to roam free again.

The change was tremendous.

The day after he started making music again, Luke left the chambers for the first time.

He walked beside Michael, heading down for breakfast in the room where their wedding banquet had been held all those months before. Luke rolled a bright red apple around in his hands as he sat beside Michael at the head of the table, carefully avoiding the gazes of everyone else who was present as he methodically sliced the fruit into crisp slivers. They were sweet on Luke’s tongue, tasted slightly different now that he was Human rather than Fae, like even something as specific as his taste buds had changed when his magic had burnt through him for the last time.

Luke had a breakthrough a few days later, when he’d finally set the lute down for the first time and had accepted Michael’s offer of a turn around the courtyard.

Luke knew the King was neglecting his responsibilities in favour of spending more time with his husband but the blond man couldn’t quite find it in himself to push Michael away when he loved and needed him more than anything.

“My love, I hope you know how much I appreciate this,” Luke said wearily as the pair of them walked across the cobbles, their arms linked and Michael’s hand resting gently atop Luke’s. A light breeze whistled through the trees as the pair headed for the small stone bench that they’d rested on before, sheltered beneath two maple trees.

“What’s that?” Michael asked softly and Luke let out a little sigh as the pair sat down, resting his head gently on Michael’s shoulder.

“For staying with me,” Luke elaborated and his cheeks flushed with blood. Michael brushed his husband’s cheekbone gently with his knuckles. “It means a lot… but I’m worried that your time would be better spent on your people, on Sydney.”

“You worry yourself needlessly, snowflake,” Michael promised, letting his hand fall to cup Luke’s jaw instead. “My council have everything under control and negotiations with Calum regarding an alliance between our two Kingdoms will not begin for another fortnight. We need time to heal, Luke. Just like you do.”

The Prince ducked his head, biting at his soft bottom lip as Michael’s hand slipped to card through his golden hair.

“Thank you,” Luke whispered and Michael’s smile was sad when he pulled his husband into a soft kiss.

“You’ve nothing to thank me for,” Michael promised, leaning back on the bench and stretching his legs out in front of him. He heard a soft sound and looked down, frowning when he realised that he’d damaged one of the flowers growing nearby with his boot.

“Oh,” Luke murmured softly, rising without thinking and crouching beside the wilting bluebell. His pale fingertips brushed the stem and he sang softly beneath his breath and, just as Michael felt sadness grip his heart at the fact that Luke had _forgotten_ his sacrifice, the tips of the Prince’s fingers began to glow blue.

Luke’s eyes were wide with shock, like he was realising his oversight… like _he_ didn’t understand how this was possible either.

Michael felt something calm inside of him.

“You were so powerful… _before_ …” The King bit his cherry-red lip, watching with amazement as the bluebell’s stem healed and Luke straightened up on shaky legs. “Perhaps… a tiny bit of your magic survived…”

“Perhaps,” Luke echoed, looking stunned at the turn of events. “But… I’m still ageing…” His hand flew to his hair and Michael’s gaze softened as he remembered Luke’s shock at finding several grey hairs a few days before. The War had been cruel to all of them but perhaps Luke most of all.

Luke’s face lit up inexplicably and Michael’s eyes were wary as he entwined his fingers with Luke’s, gently pulling him to sit back down again.

“We can grow old together,” the Prince breathed, his pretty blue eyes awestruck as he watched that sink in on Michael’s face. “We can be horrible cantankerous old men that sit on this bench and tell all the knights where they’re going wrong.”

Luke giggled and Michael’s eyes sparkled with mischief.

“That honestly sounds like the best plan in the world,” he said quietly and his expression changed, became softer and more melancholy as he wrapped his arms around Luke’s shoulders and caught his lips in a gentle kiss.

Luke’s lips moved gently against Michael’s and his tiny hands were _warm_ as they slipped up to cup the King’s burnt face.

When they parted, Michael’s emerald green eyes were gleaming with tears.

“What are you thinking about?” Luke whispered, letting their foreheads fall to rest together as Michael pulled his husband gently into his lap. It wasn’t exactly a dignified way to be sitting in the courtyard but Luke craved the closeness and, by the way the King was now holding Luke tightly around the waist, so did Michael.

“I’m thinking about Ashton,” Michael said after a short pause and his lips twisted around the word. “I’m thinking about the Faerie council’s punishment and how close I came to losing you. God, Luke, I came so close.”

“I know you did.” Luke bit his bottom lip as his complexion paled a little and he tucked his face away out of sight, resting his cheek on Michael’s neck and breathing in the familiar comforting scent that went a small way to calming his frayed nerves. “I’m sorry I didn’t want to be healed. I… I didn’t think I _deserved_ -”

“You _do_ deserve,” Michael said and he kissed Luke hard, like he was trying to push all of his love and pain into it. “You deserve more than anyone, snowflake.”

Luke blinked back his tears, pressing a chaste kiss to Michael’s neck and cuddling closer to him when the King shivered.

“What were you thinking about Ashton and the Faerie council?” Luke asked after a slight hesitation. His fingers rose to stroke the short black hairs that grew at the base of Michael’s skull and the King let his head fall forwards at that, his jaw slackening a little like it felt really good. “Maybe if you talk about it then you’ll feel better, my love.”

“I think only time will do that, snowflake,” Michael said with a weak smile that didn’t even come _close_ to brightening his eyes. “But I take your point.” Michael bowed his head, like the words were hard to say. “Ashton was only exiled… and yet… he won’t lose his powers...”

“No,” Luke agreed quietly, winding his fingers through Michael’s hair and stroking his scalp gently with the pads of his fingers. “Binding magic is considered torture among the Faes. Surely you remember that.”

“I do,” Michael said, looking conflicted now. “But… but after what happened to you… a _Prince_...”

“I think _Andrew_ is simply grateful that Ashton didn’t hit me with magic,” Luke said but his voice was a little icier now. Michael held him close to keep the cold at bay but his expression was confused and the Prince elaborated quietly. “If a Fae hits another Fae with magic - and not like the spear, Mikey, but actual _magic_ \- then they can’t heal themselves.” Michael looked upset and Luke touched his cheek gently with his fingertips. “That’s why everyone is angry at Ashton - angry enough to banish him from the Realm - but they’re grateful that he didn’t use magic. That’s the only reason I survived.”

A tear rolled down Michael’s cheek and Luke kissed it away from the corner of his mouth with a gentle brush of his lips.

“I can’t believe he did that to you,” the King breathed and it took Luke a moment to realise that Michael was talking about Andrew. “If… if it’s _torture_... you… you’re his _son_!” Another tear fell when Luke’s expression tightened but the Prince accepted it.

“I don’t know.” His words were soft and sad but the life was returning to his eyes, and it heartened Michael. “But that’s irrelevant now. He’s returned to the Citadel and that’s where I hope he’ll stay. I won’t ever forgive him and he knows that.” Luke took a deep, steadying breath and his shoulders slumped a little as he relaxed back into Michael’s arms again. “It’s alright, my love. This will all be well in the end.”

The black-haired man settled his palm gently over Luke’s chest, right above the scar. The injury no longer pained Luke thanks to his healing on the Golden Plains but it still made his breath catch in his throat with shock.

“I love you,” Michael reminded him and the sun broke out from behind the clouds, and Michael’s burnt face looked radiant in the sunlight.

Luke was so lucky to have him.

“I know,” Luke said and a gentle smile curved his lips. It was the first time he’d smiled and _meant_ it in weeks. “I love you too.”

Things wouldn’t be easy but the Prince wasn’t alone. Michael would be there to help him through it and, in turn, Luke would be there to support Michael. They would get through what had happened and they would come out of the other side intact, just like they always did.

Michael thought they were going to be just fine in the end.

(So did Luke.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's still more to go but it's pretty much just fluff/smut/SECRET THINGS so I hope you'll be excited for those!  
> Please let me know what you thought :)


	8. Towards The Sunlight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know these updates are shorter than the earlier ones but I just want to balance out some of the angst with nice fluffy things for you so I hope you don't mind!  
> Fingers crossed you guys will enjoy this!

**_I won't hide from you._ **

 

Calum’s immense gratitude to Luke never really seemed to fade.

Over the next few months he visited the Palace often to negotiate a peace treaty with Michael. The two Kings laid out new plans for supplies and trading. In any other situation they might have tried to arrange a marriage with royalty from both kingdoms but, with things the way they were - Michael with Luke and Calum’s asexuality a topic he timidly explained during their last meeting - they would have to do without in this instance.

The meeting was taking place on one of the terraces of Victoria’s castle today. Michael and Luke had travelled there as a show of solidarity, and the Prince had enjoyed the journey by carriage there very much. He’d sat on the plush seat with his head resting gently on his husband’s shoulder as the warm sun filtered down outside, warming his legs beneath his new sky blue tunic.

The summer had rushed upon them quickly that year.

The mists in the valleys burnt away and the spiderwebs stopped collecting dew. The fresh air lost the cool nip and the days stretched out in front of them like golden ink spilling across worn parchment.

The terrace was small and enclosed, shadowy with vines that crept and twisted through the empty air from the pots fastened to the balustrade that enclosed the paved area. Calum was sitting immobile in a cushioned seat at a small wooden table.

A relatively small cherry tree twisted out of a ceramic pot nearby and its branches stretched up towards the sunlight, sheltering the table and its three occupants. Luke could sense the tree’s contentment from where he sat straight-backed beside his husband.

The neck of Luke’s tunic was low and loose, allowing the breeze to cool him as the baking summer air practically crackled around them. The very top of the crimson scar peered over the icy blue material like an angry red eye and Calum flinched when his eyes settled on it. Beside Luke, Michael’s arm slipped around his husband comfortingly.

“I fear I must thank you and apologise again,” Calum said quietly as his chocolate brown eyes fell to rest sadly on the table.

Luke suppressed a sigh, extending a small pale hand timidly and settling it lightly across Calum’s wrist. Michael sighed quietly too, settling his head in the gentle curve of Luke’s neck and pressing a kiss to the blond Human’s shoulder through his tunic.

“You’ve expressed your gratitude and apologised more than a hundred times, Calum,” Luke said quietly but his words were gentle and surprisingly fond, bred from familiarity that grew between them during the last few months.

“I know,” Calum said. He had grown very fond of Luke and, surprisingly, the Prince had grown extremely fond of Calum in turn, due in part to the very visible love that the tanned man bore his husband.

Calum’s eyes crinkled up as he spoke, scrunching up with his grateful smile as his dimples showed in his cheeks. Michael grinned at that, reaching over and punching his best friend lightly on the shoulder.

“You never change,” the green-eyed Human said quietly and Calum’s expression became thoughtful, contemplative almost as his hands moved, one slipping up to grip Michael’s where it rested on his shoulder and the other twisting to grasp Luke’s gently.

“You two have changed more than you realise,” Calum said. His face was soft and gentle. “Even in the time I’ve known you.”

Luke liked how close his husband and Calum had grown, but Luke liked that he and his husband were practically inseparable nowadays even more. Their wedding rings sparkled on their fingers now as their free hands entwined on the tabletop and it made Luke’s heart flutter in his chest inside the blue tunic.

Their plans for the treaty were detailed on parchment in front of them but the inky words were starting to blur together now and Michael knew he’d been staring at them for far too long. He looked away, glimpsing bright blue sky and the faintest white clouds behind the curling black iron of the balustrade.

The terrace overlooked a courtyard similar to the one beside the Palace back in Sydney although one notable difference was that Victoria’s Knights were suspiciously _not_ training - Calum had smiled wryly when Luke pointed this out with a slight smirk but Michael couldn’t say he blamed Calum. They had to have some secrets remaining after all.

A light wind blew, stirring up the still air and making the verdant vines sway on the breeze. The trees growing around the courtyard were dappled with buttery sunlight and the white of the paving stones shone golden beneath the midday sun as the amber tiles of the turrets shone like gemstones polished to a gleam.

Michael was glad Calum had surrendered. He was pleased Victoria had never had the chance to fall.

The Kingdom was far too beautiful to be lost.

Michael thought that Victoria was almost as stunning as _Sydney_ was these days and it made him happy that the rift between the two Human Kingdoms was healing. Now that there was little animosity between them, they could flourish side by side.

A stronger breeze stirred the air and Luke pulled his hands free to keep the parchment detailing their plans on the weathered wood of table. Luke wiped a hand across his brow and exhaled heavily, frowning up through the gently swaying vines to where the sun burnt high in the sky.

“Do either of you mind if I take this inside?” he asked quietly, his cheeks unusually flushed like the heat was getting to him. “I can fine-tune some of these details and you two can check them after if you like? I really don’t mind - and I think you two deserve some time to catch up.”

“Only if you’re sure, snowflake,” Michael said with a gentle smile. Luke’s blue eyes were soft as he leant forwards to brush his lips lightly against Michael’s.

“Of course I’m sure, my love.”

The Prince rolled the parchment up and carried it swiftly inside, apparently relieved to be out of the heat from the way his shoulders slumped as he entered the castle.

“He loves you very much,” Calum said quietly as the pair sat alone together on the shadowy terrace. The vines produced flowers in the summer months and the lilac buds swayed calmly in the breeze. A bumblebee collected pollen from the blooms, buzzing gently in the silence.

“As I love him.” Michael’s words were quiet and he looked almost _sad_ when his emerald green eyes met Calum’s darker pair. “You were always very proud, Cal. Stubborn as sin but… proud.”

Calum raised an eyebrow because this statement had been issued seemingly out of nowhere.

“That’s quite true,” the younger man said. His lips twitched but his eyes were sad too. “Mikey, what is it?”

The Human’s burnt face creased with what _might_ have been pain and Calum looked worried. Michael couldn’t say he blamed him though. The older man didn’t know where his suddenly maudlin thoughts had come from either.

“When… when you surrendered that… that day on the Golden Plains...” Michael swallowed past the sudden lump in his throat, fighting (and failing) not to remember his husband lying dead in his arms. “That… that must have been unbearable.”

Calum’s self-deprecating laughter surprised Michael.

“That was actually the easiest part,” the tanned man confessed and, when Michael raised an eyebrow cautiously, the younger man continued. “I’ve always hated decisions with too many potential outcomes… but… Mike, this was the only decision I _could_ have made. I didn’t want any more of my soldiers to perish. Not surrendering would only have prolonged the massacre.”

Michael determinedly didn’t flinch at those words but it wasn’t easy.

“The Fae don’t view ‘fighting fair’ in the same way we do, Mikey,” Calum said and it was as close to forgiveness as Michael was going to get. He thought he could live with that.

At least they were still here, together.

“I agree,” the black-haired man said at last but the emerald of his eyes seemed to dim again. “I find it hard to remember how this War even began some days.”

“It was what was best for our people at the time, or so we thought,” Calum said unhappily before he gave an uncomfortable shrug. “My advisors assured me of this, said it so often that I believed them to be true. It was simplest to listen to their advice.” The tanned man swallowed audibly, the unease on his face mixing with consternation now. “Ever since my father passed away, it’s been… trying… This War almost seemed _expected_ with my reign’s history.”

“Calum, _no_. Don’t say that.” Michael’s brows creased and he looked upset. “This wasn’t your fault. It was _no one’s_ fault. Tensions ran too high and we couldn’t see past our animosities at the time - but you’re not to blame.”

For a moment, just a moment as a shaft of sunlight broke through the vines and illuminated Calum’s soft face, he looked like a child again, lost and helpless and afraid. Michael squeezed his best friend’s hand comfortingly and the vulnerability faded.

“Time will heal these wounds,” Michael promised and Calum seemed to be listening.

Michael pulled his best friend into a tight hug that neither broke for a very long time.

“This will all be well in the end,” Michael said and his emerald green eyes glittered in the sunlight. “You just have to believe it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you thought! Thank you for reading :)


	9. Purple Dark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This literally took me about a week to write and I don't even know why.  
> It's also really incredibly smutty so... have fun with that hopefully.

**_I won't hide from you, you, you._ **

**_I won't hide from you, you._ **

 

The weeks slipped through their fingers like sand but there was no fear lingering in their bones anymore; just love and weariness and a silent plea for a quiet life. The peace treaty had long since been signed now and a feeling of safety blanketed Paelar, as soothing as cool water on sunburnt skin.

For the most part Luke felt content but, when he stopped to think sometimes, he could feel a subtle ache inside him, like something was missing.

Michael helped distract Luke though and the blond Human was grateful for that. He could lose himself in the emerald of Michael’s eyes and the pale skin of his chest as Luke’s trembling fingers traced his torso, mapping every rib and burn and soft hair.

“I love you,” Luke whispered as he leant over Michael. They were lying on their bed now, tangled together on the white sheets as the late summer sun burnt away into purple dusk. Luke’s scarred chest was pressed to Michael’s and his pretty sapphire blue eyes could just make out the gently swaying trees in the courtyard through their open window. The leaves were black against the amethyst sky, a silhouette against the sunset as Michael’s eyes found the scar on Luke’s chest and a tear rolled down his cheek.

Luke kissed it away, cupping his husband’s face gently in his hands as he moved to brush his lips against Michael’s. The black-haired man looked desperate beneath him, lost and hurting and so in _love_ that it stole the breath from Luke’s lungs.

A tear rolled down the blond man’s face as they lay there, like the pain he could see on Michael’s face was too much to cope with. The tear slid down Luke’s pale cheek and plunged down onto one of the burns stretching up over the pale pearly skin of Michael’s shoulder. The burn seemed to ripple before it faded into uninterrupted snowy white.

Michael jerked upright, gasping in shock in the moments before his lips crushed against Luke’s, his hands sliding from his husband’s back up to tangle in his blond hair.

“ _Snowflake_!” Michael said urgently and his eyes were streaming with tears, and Luke’s fingers were brushing his own tears away now too as he dragged his fingertips across the rose-red scars littering Michael’s torso, spreading the tears there and watching in disbelief as the burns faded away, dissipating back beneath the skin like blood, like they were never there at all, and it seemed fitting that it was magic healing wounds left by a Faerie.

Perhaps there was more magic left in Luke after all.

“Not so different from healing that tree,” Luke teased weakly and Michael’s eyes swam with fresh tears, even as he gave a watery laugh.

“Y’know, I take exception to that,” he said shakily and the pads of Luke’s fingers were so soft as they traced the stubble on his jaw, soothing and soft, as light as a butterfly.

Michael slumped back onto the bed, small and wide-eyed upon the white sheets as Luke settled down more comfortably over him once more. Michael’s emerald green eyes were sparkling with tears when Luke raised his hand uncertainly to the burn on Michael’s cheek but, before he could touch the rose-shaped scar there, he faltered.

“I’m not…” Michael said uncertainly and Luke kissed him calm again.

“Nor am I,” he whispered. Luke didn’t know if he’d be able to do this again but he felt calm when Michael looked faintly relieved. “You’re stunning, with or without them. Always, Mikey. God, _always_.”

“ _Snowflake_ ,” Michael breathed, his lips parting with a gasp as Luke rolled his hips a little against Michael's. “I’d do anything for you.”

“And I you, my love,” Luke promised and his mouth was hot against Michael’s as the younger Human deepened the kiss. Michael moaned when Luke’s tongue slipped into his mouth and he was hard between them now, aching inside his breeches as Luke’s blood flooded south too.

“I know,” Michael whispered against his lips and Luke broke away, panting as his hands fell to settle on the black-haired Human’s heaving chest.

“I… I want...” Luke bit his lip, falling silent. Michael touched Luke’s lips gently with his fingertip, silently urging him to speak. The blond man flushed crimson. “I want to go all the way with you, my love,” Luke whispered and his cheeks were flaming now. “Please.”

"I don't want to pressure you, snowflake... You've never done that before and -"

"You really, _really_ aren't pressuring me," the blond man promised and his eyes were soft as he stroked Michael's burnt cheekbone gently. Michael flinched a little at the contact but the stubborn burn remained. Luke was secretly pleased - he didn’t want to remove it because it made Michael _so_ beautiful.

"I want this more than I can put into words, my love." Luke's voice was calm and quiet in the silence, and he gave another pointed roll of his hips, grinding down against Michael as heat flooded through them.

"Then of course," the King promised, rolling them gently so that Luke was lying on his back upon the quilt. "I've got you, baby. I promise.”

Luke’s heart was racing in his chest when Michael settled down carefully over him but there was want burning in his veins, _need_. Michael struggled out of his breeches as Luke dragged his tunic up over his head and the King pushed a folded pillow gently beneath Luke’s hips, and it was just warm skin against skin as Michael slotted their mouths together in the early evening as the sky stained lilac outside.

Luke was already damp but Michael still slicked his fingers up with lavender-scented oil from their bedside table before he stroked the pad of one finger lightly across his husband’s delicate pink hole. A whine escaped Luke at the contact when his husband let his fingertip catch, threatening to push in.

“ _Please_ ,” Luke said raggedly and Michael kissed him gently, his lips a warm drag against Luke’s as he pressed his finger in up to the first knuckle. Luke clenched down hard around him, groaning as his face creased.

“You want to stop?” Michael asked gently, a slight frown creasing his brow at the discomfort on Luke’s face. The anxiety in Michael’s eyes was burning away the lust and Luke reached up shakily to knot his fingers in Michael’s hair, tugging him down gently so that he could kiss him again.

“Keep going,” Luke murmured, letting out a quiet moan when Michael pressed his finger in all the way. The older man’s knuckles brushed Luke’s overheated skin as Michael began to move his finger and Luke had to admit that it was starting to feel… different. Better.

“You look so good like this, snowflake,” Michael murmured, stroking Luke’s blond hair away from his sweaty forehead gently with his free hand as the Prince began to pant. Michael’s finger was beginning to slip in and out more easily now, and the friction was making Luke’s head swim as his breathing sped up. The very tip of Michael’s finger brushed lightly against something deep inside Luke and he let out a quiet moan as stars burst before his eyes.

“ _More_ ,” he gasped pleadingly and Michael smiled, relaxing visibly now that he knew Luke was enjoying it.

“Of course, snowflake,” Michael promised, pressing a tiny kiss to the corner of Luke’s mouth as he eased his finger out carefully, applying more of the lavender oil to his fingers.

Luke’s cheeks flushed with blood when Michael gently pressed two fingers to Luke’s hole and he fluttered at the faintest hint of pressure.

“God, Mikey, _please_!” Luke begged and Michael’s emerald green eyes glittered as he pushed them into Luke’s tight heat. His husband moaned louder, so desperate now that he barely felt the burn of it. Michael kissed him, his tongue hot and wet as Luke moaned into his mouth.

Out of nowhere, Michael’s fingers began to fuck into him again, harder and with more pressure this time. Luke flung his head back into the pillows as Michael’s fingers hit his prostate again and a wave of arousal rippled through him.

“Stop, Mikey! _Stop_!” Luke gasped out, laughing breathlessly as his hands fell to push weakly at Michael’s shoulders. “I don’t want to come yet.”

“Oh,” Michael breathed, looking very relieved. He eased his fingers out carefully and Luke bit his lip. “I was worried I’d hurt you…”

Luke’s flushed face softened and he cupped his husband's cheeks gently, kissing him slow and sweet.

“You _definitely_ didn't," Luke said breathlessly but Michael's fingertips began to brush lightly across the inside of his thigh and... and Luke needed Michael. Now.

"My love, _please_ ," Luke said breathlessly as he clenched down around nothing. Abruptly, Michael slipped his fingers back into Luke's hole and the blond man's back arched off the bed as he groaned at the sensation of being stretched. When Michael's fingers began to scissor inside him, Luke's eyes threatened to roll back into his head as moans began to leave him with more frequency.

"God, snowflake, you love this so _much_ ," Michael breathed and his pupils were blown when Luke's eyes fluttered open to look at him.

"Add another," Luke breathed, the ocean blue of his eyes hidden behind the inky black of his pupils.

"You're sure you're ready?" Michael checked hesitantly, even as he continued to slide his fingers deep inside Luke, carefully missing his prostate each time because the growing lust in his husband's eyes was turning him on so much.

"Yes," Luke said breathily and Michael dropped a small kiss onto his lips as he carefully withdrew his fingers, kissing him through the ache.

The sky was darker now, streaked with purplish-reds as the sun began its steady descent beneath the horizon. The air around them smelt clean, like lavender and fresh cotton. Luke's golden hair was soft beneath Michael's palm.

"Here you go," the black-haired man said quietly as he carefully slicked his fingers up, making sure they were completely covered so that he didn't hurt Luke.

"C'mon, Mikey, _please_ ," Luke urged but he bit down hard on his bottom lip when Michael did as he asked, carefully working the tips of three fingers into Luke's hole. Michael leant forwards and freed Luke's lip carefully, sucking it into his mouth and making him whimper as the blond man's cock began to leak pre-come onto his pale flat stomach. Luke clenched down without meaning to, going rigid when it hurt.

" _Mike_ ," Luke whined, screwing his face up in discomfort. Michael's brow creased faintly and he dropped a gentle kiss onto Luke's panting mouth as he stroked the blond man's hair away from his forehead.

"It'll feel good in a second, snowflake," Michael promised, dropping his free hand to stroke Luke's cock gently, letting his palm ghost down the length before he wrapped his fingers around it firmly, squeezing just enough that Luke's toes curled as Michael worked his three fingers in deep.

" _Mikey_ ," Luke moaned, squeezing his eyes shut tightly as Michael pushed them in all the way.

"Snowflake," the black-haired man said softly, his voice almost awestruck as he took in the lust darkening Luke's beautiful blue eyes. "God, I love you so much."

Michael let his fingers brush Luke's prostate to give his husband some relief and Luke's voice cracked when he answered: "I l-love you too."

The first stars were beginning to wink into existence outside in the purple dark and Luke might have been desperate for _anything_ Michael was willing to give him but his pulse was surprisingly steady in his veins, _calm_ almost because of how safe and secure his husband made him feel.

"I'm ready, love," the blond man whispered when Michael pushed his fingers in and Luke felt no ache. His voice was steadier now. "Please. I need you."

" _Luke_ ," Michael said in answer and his voice was small by comparison, weak with need. "Are you -?"

"Yes," Luke promised, biting his bottom lip as Michael gently withdrew his fingers and wiped them subtly on the sheets. Luke reached for the lavender-scented oil in its little pot on their bedside table and dampened his hand, reaching down between them to slick Michael up.

The black-haired man let out a soft moan when Luke stroked his cock, running his fist gently up and down as he covered Michael's length. The older man groaned quietly as his hips shifted to fuck up into Luke's fist, chasing the contact that promised more friction. When Luke gently let go, the black-haired man whimpered.

"Michael," Luke whispered fondly and his lips were soft as he stretched up to press a kiss to his husband's forehead. "Michael, please. I'm ready."

"You're sure?" the King murmured and he sounded strained. His usually-pale cheeks were flushed red and his cherry-coloured lips were bruised from where he had bitten at them. Luke wiped his hand on the sheets before he tangled his fingers in Michael's messy black hair, tugging him down for a longer kiss, one that seemed far too chaste when their situation was taken into account.

"Yes, I'm sure," Luke promised and he sounded calmer than ever. "I want this. Always."

"Always," Michael repeated numbly and he looked stunned when Luke leant back to see him properly. Michael's messy black hair was in disarray and his emerald green eyes were wide and innocent, and it made him look younger somehow, vulnerable... like maybe _he_ needed looking after too.

"I love you, snowflake," Michael mumbled and Luke laughed softly at that, cupping Michael's flushed cheeks and drawing him in for another soft kiss, his lips warm and full as they moved against Luke's.

"I know you do - you just told me," the blond man teased against the older man's lips and Michael blushed, hiding his shy smile in the soft skin of his husband's neck.

“ _Please_ , Michael,” Luke said softly, his words muffled in Michael’s hair, and when Michael pulled away and smiled down at him gently, his eyes were darkest yet, making Luke shiver.

“I’ve got you,” Michael repeated but his voice was rough with lust now and it made goosebumps rise on Luke’s pale skin. Michael’s shaking hands fell to spread Luke’s thighs gently and the blond man’s piercing blue eyes never left his husband’s face as Michael let the leaking head of his cock catch on Luke’s hole.

“Hold onto me,” Michael whispered, letting his lips brush the end of Luke’s nose and smiling crookedly when Luke let out a breathless giggle as he clung to him, wrapping his arms around Michael's muscular shoulders. “Just relax, snowflake. You’re safe. I love you.”

“I love you too,” Luke said and this time he didn’t tease Michael for repeating himself. It soothed his slight nerves instead, made something calm inside him.

Michael began to push in and Luke’s head hit the pillows again as his mouth dropped open. Luke’s breath escaped him in a panting gasp, like there was no room inside him for anything - not even air - when Michael was filling him up so good.

Luke was fluttering around Michael’s cock as his body fought to adjust and... and it was _overwhelming_. He'd never felt this full in his _life_.

“Snowflake?” Michael breathed shakily, only an inch inside but it was already so intense that his breath was escaping him in pants. “Are - are you okay?”

“You’re… it’s _so_ …” Luke’s eyes were so blown now and his hips were jerking a little, like his body couldn’t stand the _waiting_.

“ _Luke_?” Michael hesitated but Luke’s pale hand slipped down to shakily wrap around his cock and he fisted himself hard, clenching instinctively as a shudder tore through him.

“Move,” Luke croaked and Michael rocked in all the way, instantly whiting out at the wonderful pressure as the fire in his stomach began to burn hotter.

All Luke could think about was how spread he felt around the scorching heat of Michael's cock; how stretched and full and _needy_.

Michael was panting and cursing softly under his breath but his hands were cool against Luke's overheated skin as the black-haired man stroked his husband's broad shoulders. Michael shifted without meaning to, pushing his cock deeper into Luke and making the blond man fight against the whine clawing its way out of his throat as he shuddered, clenching down like this was everything he’d ever needed.

“ _Move_ , love,” Luke choked out, his eyes sparkling with what _might_ have been tears now as his fingertips pressed bruises into the pale skin stretching across Michael’s smooth shoulders. “Please.”

Michael pulled out gently and rocked his hips back in just as slow, sinking in as deep as he could as the sky slowly darkened to black outside. Luke moaned as Michael filled him up again and again with his cock, realised belatedly that he was fucking himself back as he stuffed himself full, like he couldn’t stand not having Michael inside him now he knew how incredible it felt.

Michael’s cock sliding inside Luke felt _insanely_ good and Luke’s cock kicked against his stomach when Michael thrust in deep, felt drops of pearly pre-come shooting out across his heaving stomach as Michael’s hands fell to roll Luke’s nipples, sending sparks of arousal shivering down Luke’s spine as everything began to melt away into pleasure.

“Please,” Luke choked out and Michael fought to stop his hips moving as he looked down at Luke with eyes clouded by lust. “Let me… I want…”

Michael’s expression cleared as he understood what his husband was hinting at and he pulled out carefully, rolling over and slumping down onto his back in the middle of the bed. Luke winced a little when he moved but he was still so hard that everything but his desperate burning _need_ seemed to pale by comparison.

Luke settled down over Michael on trembling limbs, lining himself up carefully and sinking back down with a whine as he filled himself up. Luke faltered, inhaling shakily as he fought to adjust again and… and Michael’s cock felt heavier when it wasn’t moving, pressing against Luke and spreading him so good that the shudders tearing through him felt like they were going to pull him apart, and the moans escaping them both were so _loud_ now, helpless and desperate as they moved together, faster and faster.

If Luke had felt good making Michael come with his mouth before, fucking down on him and filling up all the empty spaces inside him as Michael let out strangled moans was even better. It made Luke feel _wild_ almost, freer than he’d ever felt wheeling through the forests of his old home with Ashton.

Luke fucked himself clumsily on Michael’s cock, filling himself up again and again as he reached down shakily to stroke the older man’s messy black hair away from his forehead, Luke’s cock throbbing against his stomach. He was so, _so_ hard now and Michael shifted so that the head of his cock was sliding against Luke’s prostate, nailing him just right as louder moans began to climb out of Luke’s throat.

Riding Michael felt different, _better_. Luke had never been more turned on in his life.

Michael’s back was arching now as he thrust up desperately and Luke’s little hands were shaking harder as he pressed down on Michael’s sweaty chest. The black-haired man was moaning and whimpering beneath Luke, pressing his fingertips into the pale skin of Luke’s hips as he weakly thrust his own hips up to meet Luke’s.

“God, _please_ , snowflake, please,” Michael begged, moaning quietly when his cock hit Luke’s prostate again and the blond man clenched down around him instinctively. Luke’s eyelids were a soft lavender as he let them flutter shut in bliss and Michael’s own eyes fell shut as the heat in his stomach spread, settling in his thighs.

Neither of them were going to last much longer now.

Michael’s trembling hands crept back to Luke’s nipples again and the moan that escaped Luke sounded like a sob as Michael began to roll them between his fingers, only adding to the fire smouldering low in Luke’s stomach as the pleasure burning through him reached new heights.

Michael was hitting the bundle of nerves deep inside him on every single thrust now and Luke’s tears were leaking down his cheeks like rainwater as Michael’s cock filled him, sliding inside and grinding deep so perfectly that Luke never wanted it to stop.

Luke’s blond hair was sticking to his forehead with sweat and Michael’s jaw was slack now, and he was so gone with lust that he wasn’t really there anymore. His eyes were glassy and his fingers on Luke’s chest were making the Prince’s heart pound harder and his cock was leaking so much now and Michael’s muscles beneath his palms were tensed and Luke was _quaking_ as Michael’s cock hit his prostate again and again and -

The fire burning like lava in Luke’s stomach ignited, spreading through him like wildfire as his orgasm hit him full force, catching him completely unawares.

Luke clenched down hard around Michael, throwing his head back as a broken cry left him. Michael’s hands fell to Luke’s hips and he tightened his grip, fucking in harder, _desperate_ now as he chased release.

Michael’s cock felt so huge stretching Luke open and he was gasping loudly, even as he fought to think past the fog pleasantly clouding his head, leaning down to bite a mark into Michael’s neck.

The black-haired man whined high in his throat as his hips rocked up harder, grinding in deep as he climaxed with a broken sob. Luke slumped down onto Michael’s chest, a mess of sweaty tangled limbs as Michael’s come filled him.

The King’s hands were shaking as they slid round to gently stroke Luke’s back and the blond man struggled to catch his breath, lying with his flushed cheek pressed to Michael’s shoulder as he took in his husband’s long eyelashes fanned out on his pale cheekbones and the way his cherry-red lips gently parted as he exhaled shakily.

Michael eased out carefully and his come dripped warmly down Luke’s thigh, and the blond man knew that they should go and clean up but they could do that later, when they could stand the idea of being apart, even for a few moments.

“I love you,” Michael whispered for the fourth time that evening and Luke’s pretty blue eyes fluttered shut as exhaustion overtook him. The blond man smiled sleepily as he nuzzled his face into Michael’s neck and he let out a contented sigh when the King carefully dragged one of their blankets up over them.

“I love you too,” Luke promised as Michael’s hand began to card gently through his golden hair, lulling him to sleep. “Always.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, guys - please let me know what you thought by leaving comments and kudos! <3


	10. Wildest Dreams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the penultimate chapter and it was a very, _very_ long time coming!  
>  I hope you'll all enjoy it.

**_I'll lay low and someday I'll let you go._ **

 

Shafts of early morning sunlight flooded into their chambers, illuminating the dust motes spiralling in the air as Luke let his tunic fall to the wooden panels covering the floor. The fireplace was as empty as it had been when Luke first arrived and the lack of ash from burnt trees made the room feel cleaner - _safer_ almost - but Luke’s heart was still pounding erratically in his bare chest.

The Prince was standing in front of the mirror like Michael had done that day when burns still littered his skin, only there was no self-loathing in Luke’s eyes - only shock and fear and a touch of resentment. His sky blue eyes were swimming with tears that streamed relentlessly down his cheeks as his body shook with silent sobs because… because he had never realised this would even be _possible_ for him to -

 _God_ , Luke had never _realised_.

He began to cry harder as his trembling hands fell to settle on the small but growing bump where his stomach had once been flat. Luke knew he’d been feeling unwell for a month or two now - ever since that first night with his husband - but he’d never in his wildest _dreams_ thought that he might be _pregnant_ with Michael’s baby.

Luke had been tormenting himself over it for _days_ now, hiding it as best he could and spending most of his time in bed, curled up with his back to an increasingly concerned Michael who couldn’t get anything out of Luke no matter how hard he tried.

Luke didn’t know for sure why he was instinctively keeping it a secret - perhaps some ingrained habit from his childhood that being different meant being weak, and that weaknesses had to be buried - but Luke knew he couldn’t keep this quiet for much longer.

Male Fae could carry children but it was a very rare gift and it would soon become too obvious for Luke to hide. He couldn’t stay in their chambers with his back turned to Michael _forever_. He had to tell his husband before Luke left the chambers and one of the Fae from King Andrew’s court realised what had happened and relaid the news to Luke’s father.

Michael had to be told first.

He _had_ to…

Luke just wished it wasn’t so terrifying, wished that saying the words out loud wouldn’t make it more _real_... wished that the decision would be made for him.

For perhaps the first time in Luke’s life, Fate listened to him.

The door to their chambers swung open and Michael entered without warning, smiling when his eyes settled on Luke standing there. Michael’s face fell when he saw Luke’s anguish though and the King’s face softened with pained _love_ when Luke frantically tried to cover his growing stomach with his hands.

“Snowflake,” Michael said softly as he let the chamber door swing shut gently behind him. His voice was calm and placating, and his hands were outstretched as he approached, stopping only when Luke flinched away in panic. “Snowflake, _please_ ,” Michael whispered and his palms were soft as they came to rest gently on Luke’s shaking shoulders. “I already know.”

Luke’s knees shook and Michael’s arms wrapped swiftly around Luke’s waist from behind. Michael settled his chin gently on Luke’s shoulder, covering the blond man’s hands with his own where they rested over his growing stomach.

“I’ve known for weeks,” Michael said quietly and Luke shuddered because Michael knew. Of _course_ he knew. “I was just… just waiting for you to come to terms with it.”

“How?” Luke breathed, his mouth staying open, slack-jawed in shock as a tear rolled silently down his pale cheek. Michael entwined their fingers together where they rested on Luke’s stomach, squeezing them gently in an effort to warm them.

“I worked it out almost a month ago…” Michael’s voice was still very soft but he shook his head slowly, ruefully almost. “I read some books, Luke. I put two and two together and… and it’s…” Michael looked up, caught Luke’s gaze in the mirror and held it, emerald on sapphire. “Luke, this doesn’t have to be something we’re afraid of.”

“ _M-Mike_ ,” Luke said and his voice cracked. “I’m not -”

“Snowflake,” Michael whispered and his voice was soft, saturated with sadness at the pain he could see on Luke’s face. “Come and lie down with me, okay? We’ll get comfy and you can warm up a bit.” Luke had been shivering at the cold in the room without realising it and his cheeks flushed at the love on Michael’s face.

“Okay,” the blond man breathed and Michael looked a little calmer as he kicked his boots off clumsily and carefully led Luke over towards the bed, lying down and holding his husband gently to his chest as he pulled the blankets over them. Luke’s feet were cold when he tucked them between Michael’s legs for warmth and the black-haired man wrapped his arms around Luke again, stroking his bare chest soothingly as he pressed a gentle kiss to the back of the blond man’s neck.

“Do you not want to have a baby?” Michael asked and there was no judgement in his tone, no resentment or anger. Just love. Luke thought maybe that made it more painful.

“I _do_ want…” Luke shook his head slowly and another tear rolled down his blotchy cheek. His bright blue eyes were reddened from crying. “It’s not that…”

“Then what is it?” Michael asked quietly, confusion colouring his tone now as he freed one of his arms and began to rub Luke’s bicep gently with his palm, trying to warm him up. “Please tell me so I can help you. I don’t want you to be hurting.”

“I…” The Prince swallowed audibly past the lump in his throat and, despite his growing stomach, he felt _small_ curled up against the warmth of Michael’s chest.

“What is it, snowflake?” Michael prompted gently and Luke shrugged, half-hearted and shy now.

“I feel… weak. Because of this. Because it happened. Even though I still want it.” Luke’s cheeks flamed and he tucked his face away, burying it in the pillow. “I know it’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid,” Michael promised, carding his fingers gently through Luke’s flat blond hair and stroking his cool fingertips gently across his husband’s forehead. “But you’re definitely _not_ weak,” the older Human said quietly, pressing another kiss to Luke’s neck. “Your body’s changing to grow a baby, Lukey - _our_ baby. That’s not _weak_! That’s… that’s the strongest, purest thing I’ve ever _seen_ , snowflake. It’s _beautiful_.”

Luke lay there silently but, after a moment, his lips tugged up into a weak smile.

“Do you really think that?” he breathed and, when Michael nodded silently with his lips gently brushing Luke’s skin, the blond man smiled weakly, finally sinking down comfortably beneath the blankets. “How do you always know just what to say?” Luke asked softly and Michael hid his smile in Luke’s broad shoulder as he cuddled him close.

“I know you,” he said simply and those three words brought so many memories to the forefront of Luke’s mind - meeting for the first time, their first kiss, that day on the Golden Plains, the first time they were together, and Luke’s soft words that night in the dark: “ _I won’t hide from you_ ” - and Michael was right. He _did_ know Luke now.

“I love you,” Luke whispered, twisting in Michael’s arms to brush his lips lightly against his husband’s jaw.

“I love you too, snowflake,” Michael promised, winding his fingers gently through Luke’s soft blond hair as, with his free hand, he began to stroke gentle circles on the younger Human’s back.

Luke hummed contentedly as he looked down between the warm press of their bodies, at the special place where their child was growing inside him.

“That’s our baby in there,” Luke whispered, voice awestruck and wobbly from crying, and Michael gave his husband a watery smile as a tear rolled down his burnt cheek. The King pressed a gentle kiss to the bare skin of Luke’s throat and the blond man shivered, curling into the warmth of Michael’s body.

“Yes, it is,” Michael whispered as he ducked his head to kiss him again and Luke decided that perhaps this wasn’t such a terrifying turn of events after all.

His feelings of conviction only grew over the coming months.

The winter was fast approaching now but Michael kept his promise from all that time ago and they kept the cold at bay with candles - thousands and _thousands_ of candles. Luke had insisted on lighting them all himself although he grew tired more quickly these days but, soon enough, the Faeries who had remained at the Palace set fireballs glowing in every room or chamber.

The trees outside the windows grew sparse and their leaves fell to the ground, returning once more to the earth, but the icy wind never bothered Luke. He wore one of Michael’s thick winter cloaks, stayed huddled up safe and warm as he did his best to help the King with discussions and meetings whenever he felt well enough.

As the weeks went on, Luke developed an insatiable desire for cheese and apples, and he began to grow very emotional over relatively small things, even going as far as bursting into tears when he dropped something on the floor. Michael found it slightly bemusing but he did his very best to be supportive, cuddling Luke and pressing gentle kisses to his forehead and trying his hardest to distract the blond man when his eyes swam with tears at the smallest things.

Michael couldn’t very well blame his husband for growing upset when the pair received a gift sent from King Andrew though. Luke had stuck to his promise - he never spoke to his father out of choice ever again - so Michael had no idea how the Faerie King had received the news. Luke’s bump wasn’t yet big enough that it was visible through the too-large cloak he bundled himself up in and Michael didn’t understand it until Luke sat him down one day and explained (slightly tearfully) that he could feel his magic reacting to the baby, _glowing_ almost and drawing attention to what was growing inside him.

Neither really cared who had told Andrew. He had received the news from neither his son nor son-in-law, and that was all that mattered to them.

The winter passed and, with spring fast approaching, their baby was born.

She was healthy, with Luke’s crystal blue eyes and Michael’s soft raven-black hair; with Luke’s sparkling magic and Michael’s kind heart.

Luke and Michael loved her with everything they had, and Luke no longer felt the subtle ache in his chest that came with missing something important because now he had everything he had never known he wanted - a husband and a daughter. A real  _family_.

When their baby was a few days old, Luke and Michael finally settled on a name.

They named her Elizabeth, after Luke's mother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sad that this is almost over!  
> Only the epilogue left to go now....  
> Please let me know what you thought!


	11. Epilogue: Blue Horizon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to ramble and get emotional in the end notes so right now I just want to say an enormous **thank you**.  
>  The fact that you've stuck around this long means the world to me and I really, really hope you'll enjoy this last chapter.

**_I'll lay low and someday I'll let you go._ **

 

The years passed slowly, calmly, peacefully. They were everything Luke had wished for almost two decades before following the end of the war and they were better than the blond Human could ever have dreamed of.

Luke and Michael grew closer to Calum although he wasn’t able to visit Sydney so often anymore. He had taken in his late sister’s orphan - a wide-eyed girl named Mali-Koa - around the time Elizabeth was born and the King of Victoria spent much of his time teaching his niece everything he knew.

Elizabeth and Mali grew up as close as Michael and Calum had, and it made Luke happy because he knew his daughter wouldn’t grow up as lonely as he had when he was a child.

Calum remained eternally grateful to Luke; for saving him that day on the Golden Plains, for giving him the opportunity to reunite with Michael, and for making him Elizabeth’s godfather when the time came.

Luke, Michael and Calum grew closer than ever, loved the King of Victoria like family, and Calum loved them back, loved Mali and Elizabeth, kept them all close - in heart if not in presence - and the distance between them never once diminished their bond.

It was the same between Paelar’s Kingdoms too. Elizabeth was the salve that had helped heal their wounds because the inhabitants of the Kingdoms - Sydney, Victoria and the Realm of Faerie especially - all loved her and, as the Princess grew, the lasting rift between the once-battling Kingdoms healed once and for all. They were finally unified.

Elizabeth was nineteen years old now, a few weeks older than her best friend Mali and _slightly_ smug about it. The girls balanced each other out perfectly: Liz preferred dresses while Mali opted for breeches; Liz loved practising sword fighting with her father while Mali loved learning to play the lute with her ‘Uncle Luke’; Mali broke the rules and Liz was sensible; Liz outshone everyone but was never cruel; Mali had a sharp tongue and an even sharper mind; and they loved each other very, _very_ much.

The five of them were happy and, although a lot changed in the world during their nineteen years on Paelar, that never did.

When Luke’s heart had still beaten as a Fae, he had been jealous and cold, calculating and arrogant... but that had changed in recent years, and it was all thanks to his family because Liz was beautiful and universally _loved_ … everything Luke had always wished for growing up. He couldn’t be bitter now though. Seeing his daughter growing and learning and _loving_ made him prouder than he could ever put into words.

Liz loved so _much_ too. She loved her parents and her godfather, loved Sydney and the soft emerald green sparks that left her fingertips when she healed the withering plants in the Palace gardens.

Luke was pleased her magic shone emerald. He never wanted the beautiful green of his husband’s eyes to be lost.

The summer ended quickly that year. The crisp leaves changed with the dying of the season and, as the world turned, autumn swept across Paelar with little more than a breath of icy wind, rustling the trees surrounding the courtyard and leaving the foliage amber and crimson as the leaves tore themselves free, spiralling down through the empty air to land together on the cobbled ground.

As the weather grew colder, Liz and Mali spoke more and more of travelling somewhere warm, of exploring caves and searching for gemstones and magic and new knowledge before Liz became Queen of Sydney and Mali took over the ruling of Victoria as Regent.

When Liz finally broached the subject one chilly evening as she slumped down dramatically onto her parents’ bed, Luke and Michael exchanged slightly wistful but wholly unsurprised looks. Elizabeth had never liked the winters very much and it only stood to reason that she craved warmth and excitement, and memories of new places to share with her best friend.

Luke and Michael had spoken to Calum about it during their last visit to Victoria, and the dark-haired man agreed with them. Their daughters were healthy and strong, brave without being _too_ reckless, and they would have Guards with them besides. Liz and Mali’s hearts were gold and they would keep them safe no matter what happened. They would be more than fine.

They would be _happy_.

That didn’t mean Liz’s departure was painless for her parents though. The lump in Luke’s throat threatened to choke him when she left for the ship and Michael’s emerald green eyes sparkled suspiciously with tears as he gripped his husband’s hand tightly.

Calum was nearby with his arms wrapped tightly around his niece’s shoulders, giving her one last embrace before she left. Liz had already said goodbye to her parents but Luke could see her hesitating just before she boarded the ship. The autumn sun hung low in the sky, yellow and soft as the rays reflected off the greyish blue of the ocean.

Liz had always loved the sea - Luke privately thought that it felt as though she was carrying a piece of her grandmother in her heart and this thought was only strengthened when he looked into her sparkling blue eyes framed with Michael’s long, thick lashes and briefly saw his mother gazing back fondly at him.

“Look, love,” Luke murmured, nudging Michael gently and gesturing towards where their daughter was stumbling back towards them with a small jerk of his head. She flung herself at them when she finally reached them, wrapping her arms around their shoulders and tucking her face into Michael’s neck as she fisted the soft blue material of Luke’s tunic tightly in her hand. She sniffled, clearly trying hard to regain some small amount of composure as she clung to her two fathers like a child.

“I’ll miss you,” she breathed, choked up and watery. “So, _so_ much.”

“You’ll come home to us,” Luke promised, his lips brushing her forehead gently. She looked up at him with tear-wet eyes and a wide smile stretching across her face. She was so beautiful. Luke and Michael were so lucky she was theirs.

“I’ll bring you presents,” she promised and Michael’s heart gave a pang at that because it reminded him of just how young she was.

“Just bring _yourself_ back, sweetheart,” the King said quietly, brushing her cheek with his knuckles gently. The playful breeze tousled her raven-black hair and her crystal blue eyes crinkled as she smiled - blushing a little - when Mali appeared behind her, wrapping her arms around her best friend’s waist and leaning her chin on Liz’s shoulder.

“Are you ready to go, Princess?” she asked cheekily and Liz blushed even pinker, nodding as she darted forwards to kiss her parents on the cheek once more.

“I’ll see you again before the year is out,” she promised as Calum wandered over to them with his dark eyelashes spiky with tears and a soft smile tugging at his full lips. Michael reached out to snag his best friend’s hand and Luke leant over, brushing his lips gently against Michael’s burnt cheek. The iron dragon-forged ring hung heavily on a chain around Luke’s neck and he reached up with his trembling free hand to grip it, seeking comfort as he watched Liz and Mali board the ship with their hands entwined tightly between them.

The sun broke fully through the clouds and Paelar’s ocean sparkled like a million gemstones as the ship cut swiftly through the waves. The three men stood there silently on the boardwalk, watching with lumps in their throats and watery smiles on their faces as their loved ones vanished into the distance.

“Well, that’s that then,” Calum said in a soft voice but Luke’s breath escaped him in a tearful sniff and Michael’s eyes were full of tears. Calum smiled gently. “Let’s go home,” he said in a quiet voice, turning and making his way slowly back towards the carriage that was waiting for them. “They’ll be home again before we know it.”

The ship was gone now - not even a speck against the blue horizon - but the sun still shone brightly and Michael’s grip was unbreakable around Luke’s hand as he gripped his husband back just as tightly.

“I miss her already,” the blond man said tearfully and Michael’s smile was pained and trusting and saturated with so much _love_ that it almost hurt to look at. Luke would gladly have gone blind from staring at him though. He never wanted to _stop_ looking at his husband.

“Not to spoil the ending for you, snowflake, but everything is going to be okay,” Michael said softly and Luke gave him a watery smile, drying his sky blue eyes with the back of his hand and sniffing as he gradually regained some composure.

“I know,” he said quietly. His pale lips were tugging up into a gentle smile and Michael’s own quirked with happiness, and Luke sighed contentedly when their lips brushed in the gentlest of kisses.

Luke just wanted Elizabeth to be as happy as he was with Michael now and, somehow, he knew she would be.

Luke and Michael stayed together for the rest of their lives, content and safe in their love.

No matter what life threw at them from that point on, the pair never let each other go again.

  
  
**_FIN_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you!  
> I can't believe this is the end.  
> There were times when I didn't think I was going to be able to finish this, when I got so upset with it or I thought it was awful or it made me cry, but then you guys would read it and comment and be so damn sweet, and you made everything feel so much better.  
> I'm so glad you've all enjoyed this and I really hope you liked where I took the story!  
> Did you have a favourite character and/or scene? I'd love to hear what they were!  
> Anyway, I don't want to ramble too much but, as I said at the beginning, this really does mean the world to me.  
>  **Thank you**. Thank you so, so much.  
>  Please let me know what you thought of this update - one last time, yeah?

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what you all thought by leaving comments and kudos!  
> Thank you so so so much for reading - it means the world! <3


End file.
